Alien EndGame
by KColl2003
Summary: When the Goa'uld launch a fullscale invasion of earth, decimating conventional forces, the world's supernatural heroes are called into action. FX, Character Death, Multi XOver.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Alien End-Game

Rating: R (For Language later)

Relationships: XF

Story: ActionAdventure

Feedback: In lieu of a Faithbot yeah.

E-Mail: If I own the chars, why don't Faith and Cordy do as their master tells them? Woe is me.

Summary: After Anubis' death, a new and deadly power arises in the Goa'uld, soon earth is under its most fierce attack ever. Canon to the end of Stargate Season 8.

**FIC: Alien End Game (1?)**

Rome, Italy

"Oh, it's so big!"

Spike leered down at the tiny blonde beneath him. "Thanks love," he drawled. It made a change to be appreciated after more than a century as Dru's 'little solider'. Then he noticed something. "But I haven't put it in yet."

"Not that silly," Buffy giggled in the vapid way that always got him ready for action. Well, that and a little blue pill. "I didn't mean your teeny-weeny, I meant that."

Spike looked up, following the Slayer's finger out of the window and into the starlight sky. His eyes widened at the huge pyramid hovering in mid-air. Suddenly flames spurted out of the bottom of the ship. "Oh bugg-."

And then the world turned to fire.

* * *

Suffolk, England

"And furthermore, Rog-." Giles flung himself to the ground when the locked Council door exploded open, wood splinters flying everywhere. Turning his head, he saw a stern-faced Willow striding through the shattered doorway, a pale-faced but resolute-looking Kennedy coming in behind. "Bloody hell, Willow!" he thundered as he scrambled to his feet. "There is such a thing as knocking!"

"Get to the basement, now!" the witch snapped.

"Miss Rosenberg-," Roger huffed.

"QUIET!" the red-haired witch's magically-enhanced roar boomed throughout the meeting hall, the force of it shattering windows. "I don't have time to explain! Something's wrong, something very-," the witch's gaze snapped towards the ceiling, her face paling. "Too late. Everyone out, I'll hold them for as long as I can."

Kennedy shook her head. "No, I'm not leavin-." The Slayer's legs buckled under a laptop shot to the back of the head from a stunned-looking Andrew. Giles caught the tiny woman as she fell, eyes shooting to Willow.

"Thank you, Andrew." Willow's gaze returned to him, the power in her eyes compelling him in such a way as they'd never managed before. "Explain to Kennedy he was under my control. Go now, I'll hold them."

"Y…you're sure?" he stuttered.

"It's my turn to save you," Willow's smile had an aching, final quality to it. "Just look after Kennedy and Xander for me."

* * *

Cleveland, USA

"I was on fire tonight!" Faith boasted as she darted up the porch's three steps and spun around to face her companion, eyes gleaming. "Seven vamps, all dust!"

"Yeah," her Watcher agreed, a smile on his face. "You did great."

"Yeah, I was wicked cool," Faith's heart did an unprecedented butterfly flutter as she decided to do something she'd been putting off for weeks. "Pony up, girl," she muttered.

"Sorry?" the one-eyed man looked confused.

"Nothing," Faith forced a smile before stepping towards the man who'd been her Watcher for the past year and a half, since her break-up with the much unlamented Wood, and had grown to be a damn good friend. And maybe something more. "One thing would make tonight perfect."

"Oh yeah?" Xander looked at her, bemused.

"Yeah," Faith's eyes widened as she saw the unbelievable hovering behind her Watcher. "Get down!" Leaping forward, she crashed into Xander, knocking him into the ground even as she turned her head towards the Council headquarters and screamed. "Everyone inside, basement now!"

Even as the words left her mouth, she knew it was way too late.

* * *

LA, USA

Angel yawned, his feet on his desk, his hands clasped behind his head. Business was slow and as a result they were sat in their offices doing nothing. Angel tried and failed to zone out the sound of Connor baiting Gwen. Vampire hearing had never been a curse until he'd got a teenage son. But, he smiled unwillingly, he wouldn't change it for the world.

Suddenly the hell-goddess flung the office door open and stormed in, her expression pissed. "How dare they!"

"I know they can be annoying," Angel glanced over at the still bickering duo, "but let's not over-."

"Not them!" Illyria screeched. "We defeated them once, drove them from this galaxy eons ago. And they dare to return now!"

Angel joined the others in rising, the tension in the hell-goddess' voice undeniable. "Who, Illyria?"

"The Goa'uld!"

* * *

Vatican City

"For fuck's sake!" Jack Crow ignored the priest's flinch to continue. "A 10 cut in funding? Are you on something? How the hell am I supposed to work with this?"

"Please, Jack," the monsignor looked like he'd eaten something particularly off. "No profanity, especially in here."

"I'm talking about people's lives," Jack snapped. "I could give a crap about-," he looked down as the floor began to shake. "What the hell-."

* * *

New York

"France 1940."

Connor glanced across at Duncan. "Sorry?"

Duncan sucked in a breath. "This reminds me of Paris after the Germans invaded."

"Yes," Connor nodded as he looked around. Stone buildings lay crumpled everywhere, huge chunks of masonry scattered across eerily empty streets while iron girders jutted out of the ground, some bent out of all recognition. Corpses were heaped as far as the eye could see, the victims' blood soaking the ground and a heavy smog hanging in the air. His eyes narrowed at the sound of booted feet marching towards them. "Do you hear that?"

"I'm old, not deaf." His fellow Immortal smiled wryly before melting into the shadows.

They waited until a trio of armour-wearing, staff-wielding figures walked into view, strange-looking insignia on their foreheads, and implacable looks on their faces. The moment the trio were parallel with their position, they moved.

Leaping from the shadows, he and Duncan simultaneously decapitated the flanking invaders before they even knew they were there. The centre man of the trio began to turn towards him but Duncan slashed downwards, blade ripping through the man's knee even as Connor took his head.

The two of them simultaneously sheathed their swords. "They die then," Connor commented.

"They do," Duncan nodded. "There's a lot of them though."

Connor chuckled. "Lucky we have all the time in the world then."

* * *

Washington, USA

"Ahhhh!" the first three men hit the ground, crushed under the mammoth chunk of what had once been a brick wall he'd thrown at them. Their companions reared back, horror written across their face.

"What?" he rumbled with a humourless laugh. These bastards had killed Liz and Abe, they were going to die in their thousands for that. "You've never seen a red-skinned, horned demon before?" He scowled. "Guess what! This is an one-time only encounter!"

In a second he was amongst them, clubbed right hand swinging left and right, taking the men down like skittles, their weapons' energy blasts bouncing off him. In just a few seconds the entire patrol were dead. He contemptuously dropped the last corpse on the ground before striding off. There were so many left to kill.

* * *

Chicago, USA

He watched from the shadows as the six man patrol neared, his cape wrapped around him, ensuring they were oblivious to his presence. Once they were in range, he stepped out. Before they had chance to raise their weapons, he unleashed his powers. Six chains exploded from his suit and wrapped themselves around the aliens' throats. A sardonic smile tugging at his lips, he took their staff blasts before tightening his chains' grip and pulling his chains back, the force of the withdrawal ripping the aliens' head off, blood geysering out of their necks.

Spawn looked up as the aliens' corpses crumpled to the ground, baleful gaze settling on the myriad of pyramid ships hovering in the midnight sky. One day he'd bring them down too.

* * *

Colorado, USA

"To hell with this! We should be out there!"

"Um, Jack, I don't think there's a lot we can do."

"Dr. Jackson is correct, General O'Neill. Reports indicate there are several dozen Ha'taks hovering over earth," Teal'c put in. "Any attack against such size of force would need careful consideration."

"Sometimes there is a wisdom in waiting," Bra'tac added.

"Orders?" Jack shook his head as he continued to pace the abandoned hanger they'd been ordered to hide out, boots scuffling up the dust. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "The entire planet's burning and we're sat here twiddling our thumbs? Screw orders!"

Jack turned at the sound of the hanger's door sliding open. A succession of unfamiliar and one very familiar figure strode into the hanger, the door sliding shut behind them. "Good to see your respect for the chain of command remains as strong as ever, Jack."

"Ah," chastened, Jack sat down. "Always good to see you, General Hammond. But I'm sort of eager to out there and kick some snakehead butt, sir."

The portly Texan half-smiled. "And you will. After your briefing." The Major-General's face sobered as he sat down. "At 21:30 on the 12th April 2005, some thirty minutes before the Goa'uld attack began we received an email from the Asgard-."

"Excuse me," Jack glanced across at Daniel, the archaeologist's hand held up almost like a kid in class asking to go to the toilet. "An email? Isn't that a little primitive?"

"It appears that currently they don't have that power." Jack groaned at Hammond's statement. Well, today was just getting better and better. "The email informed us that immediately upon Anubis' death, another threat arose. It appears four Goa'uld long since banished by the system lords and believed dead used the power vacuum to blitzkrieg their way to power, eliminating or subjugating the remaining system lords in a matter of days. That accomplished, they moved their attention to the Asgard, the Free Jaffa Nation, and the Tau'ri."

"What was so special about these Goa'uld that the System Lords had them exiled?" Daniel asked.

"Because they were quads. Four related smyboites that feel no jealousy, work seamlessly as a team, and are even rumoured to be telepathic," Hammond replied.

"That is not possible, Hammond of Texas," Bra'tac interrupted. "There has never been even twin symboites. This cannot happen."

Hammond shook his head. "That's what the Goa'uld would have you believe, Master Bra'tac. Truth is, this little quartet, Asmodeus, Azarel, Beelzebub, and Sammael-."

"Four of the Christian faith's most notorious demons and all named in 'The Undiscovered Revelations' as the four that would shake heaven and hell, and all realms in-between," Daniel put in.

"Well that just gives me the warm fuzzies," Jack groaned.

"Even the System Lords were terrified of 'The Quartet'. It took a war across several systems, spanning three decades, and costing billions of lives, but eventually they were defeated, and retreated to another galaxy. Eight and half thousand years later and they're back. The weakened System Lords were taken by surprise and easily destroyed." Hammond paused. "They've amassed an army of approximately three dozen minor Goa'uld, over a hundred motherships, tens of millions of Jaffa, and scores of Unases serving as their personal guard."

"What does your government plan Hammond of Texas?" Bra'tac asked.

Hammond shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "The military option has comprehensively failed, so we're going to use the supernatural -."

"Say what!" Jack exploded. "Supernatural-."

"Stand down, General!" Hammond thundered. Once Jack had quietened, the bald southerner continued. "Allow me to introduce Major Riley Finn," a man in his late twenties, early thirties stepped forward, "of the Initiative."

The young man saluted. "General, pleasure to meet all of you. I've read all your reports-."

"More than we have of you," he retorted, temper fraying and impatience growing by the second.

Major Finn shot Hammond an uncertain look. "Don't worry about General O'Neill, he has an acerbic nature."

"Oh hell yeah," Carter muttered an unnecessarily caustic agreement.

After a second Finn began. "The Initiative was initially set up to combat Hitler's occult operations-."

"Oh come on," Jack clamped his jaw shut at Hammond's glare.

"Since then we've dealt with the policing of supernatural entities and occult activity in the US.," Finn restarted. "A number of these supernatural entities fight the likes of demons, vampires," Jack kept his mouth firmly shut at Hammond's glare. "Some of them were inadvertently killed in the Goa'uld bombardment – Tru Davies of Boston, the Charmed Sisters in 'Frisco," Daniel let out a piteous moan, "and Joan Girardi in Maryland. But others remain. While earth's most publicised super-beings have been taken prisoner by the Goa'uld, the Crow, the X-Men, and Witchblade amongst many others, these supernatural heroes have crept under the Quartet's rader. There's details on these CDs, but I'll go over the bare outline of those we're intending to recruit. The ensoulled vampire Angel in LA, the Highlanders in New York, Hellboy in Washington, Spawn in Chicago. And," Finn paused and looked towards Hammond, "the Slayer Faith LeHane in Cleveland."

After a second Hammond spoke. "It appears Faith LeHane is your daughter, Jack. I'm sorry, son."

Before he knew it he was on his feet. "That's impossible!"

"In 2000, Faith was convicted on two counts of 2nd degree murder, and during her induction medical, a blood sample was taken that found its way into the Initiative's hands." Hammond sighed. "I'm sorry son, I didn't know myself until my own briefing this morning."

"I have a daughter," Jack whispered as he slumped back into his seat, legs rubbery.

"Perhaps a wise tactic would be continuing before General O'Neill recovers?"

"Always the strategist, Master Bra'Tac," Hammond briefly smiled. "Communications is as you know a shambles. It's been decided that teams be sent to retrieve these champions to appraise them of what exactly is-."

"SG-1 will take Cleveland."

Hammond chuckled and nodded. "I thought you might, Jack. Master Bra'Tac, if you'd accompany Colonel Finn and his team?" the former First Prime nodded. "Ethan Hunt and Jason Bourne will be our third team. Mission targets and shedules are in your files. Good luck people, the fate of the universe depends on you."


	2. Chapter 2

**FIC: Alien End Game (2?)**

Jack stared leadenly out of the window, barely registering the darkened, wasted landscape passing by. He dazedly realised Daniel was speaking to him. "Sorry, Daniel?"

"Do you know who the mother is?"

Jack shrugged, embarrassed that Sam had to hear about his less than stellar past. "To judge from the photo and the date of birth, it had to be Jun '81, a bar pick-up while on a furlong in Boston."

"Oh." An uneasy silence fell.

"Is not finding out about your daughter a source of joy, O'Neill?" Teal'c asked.

Jack smiled tiredly. "Not when she spent three years inside for murder and has a rap sheet as long as my service record."

Teal'c raised a customary eyebrow. "I have murdered many, does that fact alter the way you think of me?"

"That's different," Jack shook his head. "When she should have been going to her prom, she was doing time. No father wants that."

"But she is also a mighty warrior. A hero who has saved the world many times-."

Suddenly Jack felt the over-whelming urge to vomit. "Pull over, Sam." His lover glanced over her shoulder, mouth opening in a question. "Pull over!"

The moment the SUV had jerked to a halt, he was flinging the door open and racing across the ground, ash flying up with every step. After clearing a small rise his legs buckled, plunging him onto his hands and knees, vomit spewing from his mouth, body shaking uncontrollably.

Eventually he heard a deep voice behind him. "Are you alright, General O'Neill?"

"What will she think of me, Teal'c?" he asked between heaves.

"She will think she has a mighty warrior for a father."

"Yeah, a father who was never there for her," Jack refused to be comforted.

Jack felt the alien crouch beside him, hand reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. "The General O'Neill I know is a loyal, honourable man. A man who would knowingly desert a child of his, or any child. Your daughter will understand that."

Jack smiled wanly. "You've read the same files I have, somehow I doubt that."

Teal'c stared evenly at him. "There is only one way to find out which of us is right."

Jack half-chuckled. "There's that Jaffa logic." He rose reluctantly, aging joints creaking and looked towards the waiting SUV. "Let's go find out."

* * *

Cardiff, Wales

Bond glanced around the bunker, his eye dancing over the statuesque brunette beauty and the shaven-headed muscle-man sat in the room with him, mind still reeling from the last few days' cataclysmic events.

First there'd been the garbled intelligence reports. Their top-secret satellites had picked up what they'd at first thought was a swarm of meteorites heading for earth. Then the powers that be had been notified just minutes before the attack began that the meteorites were in fact alien motherships.

And then they'd hit. City after city had been decimated. London, Birmingham, Leeds, Manchester, Edinburgh, Glasgow, and Cardiff all reduced to rubble. And now tens of thousands of the invading aliens patrolled the nation that had stood unflinchingly against the might of Nazi Germany. Conquered in a matter of hours.

The bunker's door slid open, revealing M flanked by a quartet of rough-looking men that Bond recognised by their type as either Paras or SAS. "Hello, James, Mr. Martin, Lady Croft," the service head looked drawn, the shock he'd seen in many survivors' eyes reflected there. "Thank you for joining us." The intelligence head sat behind the desk at the front of the room. "What I am about to tell you is classified beyond Top-Secret." M shook her head and smiled ruefully. "I don't supposed that matters any more."

M began to talk. Bond's eyes widened as the middle-aged woman began to describe a world far darker than the shadow one he inhabited. "There are varying supernatural warriors throughout the globe. These have been largely ignored by the world's government, feeling they are best suited to deal with the demons and the like. But now what remains of the world's governments have decided to use these forces to strike back. You're to act as first and field contact for our forces. And you're to tell Rupert Giles to enact The Pendragon Protocol."

* * *

Cleveland, USA

"Owww," Faith groaned as she awoke, head thumping and pain ravaging her body. Panic gripped her as she realised she was blind in her left eye. She exhaled a ragged breath as she realised that blood from a gash in her forehead was leaking down, sticking her eyelid to her swollen face. Wincing with the effort, she eased the lid up and blinked her eye open.

"XANDER!" An icy ball formed in her gut. "XANDER!" Faith's voice sounded ragged in her ears. Her heart pounded as she struggled up to hands and knees, turned her head, and saw her Watcher bent face-up over a bush by the flattened Council base, his legs twisted under him.

"Shit!" Heart seemingly beating hard enough to bruise or even break her rib-cage, she crawled over to the one-eyed man, stood and looked down at the crumpled Sunnydaler. Faith winced at what she saw. The man's left ankle looked to be swollen to twice its normal size, the right side of his face was bloody, and his left side where his shirt had torn looked bruised. Gathering herself, she reached out a tentative hand and shook his shoulder. "Xan." The Watcher failed to respond, Faith licked her lips, and shook him again, a little harder. "Come on, Xan." Again no response. Eyes burning, oh god, she couldn't be alone, she grabbed both of the Californian's shoulders and shook him violently. "XANDER!" She slapped the unconscious man across the face. "Wake up damn it!"

"Oooooh," her heart returned to normal cadence when Xander's eye fluttered open. Before she knew what she was doing she had the Watcher in a bear-hug. "Ribs! My ribs!"

Faith's cheeks flamed as she realised what she was doing. "Sorry," she muttered before releasing her grip and jumping back as if stung by a wasp.

"It's okay," Xander stared dazedly up at her. "It's been a while since I've had a girl pressed," Xander coloured and his voice trailed off. After an uncomfortable second, he continued. "A hand up?"

"Sure." Leaping forward, she crooked a gentle arm around X's shoulders and pulled him up, turning him to face their base.

"Oh no." Xander whispered. The house had been flattened, almost as if an angry giant's foot had stamped upon it. Where once a 3 storey stately mansion had stood there now lay a mangled jumble of wood, tiles, and brick.

"Yeah." Faith nodded. "What do ya think happened here?"

"I have no idea." Xander took a limping step towards the wreckage.

"Where ya going?"

"There might be survivors. You Slayers can take a heck of a hit."

"Are ya fuckin' high?" Faith sighed at Xander's stubborn look. Typical mule-headed male, didn't even have the sense to take orders from a woman. "Fine, but we need to get help-." Faith's voice trailed off as she looked around to see carnage as far as the eye could see. Scattered fires, burnt-out cars, and devastated buildings stood where there had once been a thriving city. It reminded her of pictures of wartime England she'd seen in history class. She guessed help wasn't coming any time soon. "K, ya sure ya can lift and shit?"

Xander winced. "I'll manage."

"K, but you be careful, right?" Xander started at the concern in her voice before nodding. They worked in grim silence for an hour, her shifting the larger pieces of masonry, Xander moving smaller, lighter stuff. Suddenly Xander dropped a window sill and fell to his knees, doubling up as he dry-heaved. "Xander!" Faith started over, worry tightening her chest. Fuck, internal injuries.

"Don't!" Xander raised his hand in an attempt to ward her off but she ignored the gesture, skipping gracefully over the debris.

And stopped dead when she saw the decapitated head by her Watcher's knee. A stunned second passed before she was able to croak a name. "Vi." Tearing her eyes away, she looked into her Watcher's ashen-grey face. "X, we're not gonna find -."

"We have to look," Xander's face had a mulish look. "What else are we going to do? Catch a movie?"

Faith opened her mouth to argue then stopped as she saw something that gave her an idea. Striding over to the upturned lounge sofa, she spoke. "I'll do ya a deal."

"A deal?" Xander struggled to his feet and limped over to her side.

For a second she basked in the man's closeness before continuing. "Reality check, Harris, there's not gonna be any survivors. Unless," she patted the sofa, "they're under here."

"Under the sofa?" Xander shot her a bemused glance.

Faith counted to ten. And she actually wanted to date this idiot? "Look where the sofa landed," she patiently explained. "It's right over the basement door. If there was anyone in the gym when whatever hit hit, they won't be able to get out."

"Great, let's move it!"

"Sure," Faith nodded. "But once we've done this, we've gotta haul ass, find out what's goin' on. Contact G-." Xander's face crumpled. "Xan, what's the sitch?"

"Willow's dead." The man's legs buckled and he would have fallen but for her catching him.

"Ya can't know that!"

"I can." Tears started streaking down the man's face. "We have a telepathic link. If she was alright, she'd have sent me a message to tell me…" The man's shoulders began shaking.

"Just sit there, X." Faith eased the man down into a relatively clean spot. God, she hoped someone would feel that bad about her when she bought the big one. "I'll get this sofa moved." Dropping into an ass touching the floor squat, she gripped the sofa and flipped it towards the back of the house.

She sucked in her cheeks as she looked down at the basement hatch. If there was no-one at the other side, then chances were her entire team was dead. Reaching out a suddenly clammy hand, she grabbed the brass ring and yanked the door open. Even as she crouched over the entrance to peer into the murky hole beneath, a hand smacked into her leather-clad behind.

"What the fuck!" she screeched as she plunged into the hole, falling head over heels down the dozen steps, body jarring with every impact. Hitting the ground back-up, she glared at the man hurrying down the steps. "Jesus, X! Ya wanted to cop a feel all ya had to do was ask!"

"Faith! Xander!" Faith's heart leapt when Dana, Rona, and Harry Doyle rushed out of the shadows. Some of her team had survived. But two Watchers and three Slayers was a pretty lousy return for three Watchers and nine Slayers. "What happened? Where is everyone!"

Xander pulled the hatch down behind him. "Sorry Faith, but people are coming."

"So you threw me into the basement?" Faith struggled to her feet. "Jesus, X. I thought I was the one with people issues!"

"They're not exactly local, Faith."

"Another dimension?" Harriet asked with customary geeky eagerness.

Xander shook his head. "More like another planet."

Faith groaned. Oh crap, Xander was taking his sci-fi obsession way too far. Next he'd be talking about 'Wormhole Xtreme'. "And how do you know that?" she asked, not bothering to hide her scepticism.

"They look human but they're wearing this really old-fashioned armour that looks like it was made last week. And they're carrying these staff weapons that look space age."

"What about everyone else?" Rona pressed impatiently. "Where are they?"

Xander and Faith exchanged sorrowful looks. "They're dead, Ron," Xander replied.

* * *

LA, USA

"Look." Hours into their journey through LA's sewers, Angel temper snapped. Grabbing Illyria's shoulder, he spun her around to face her. "I want some -."

Suddenly he was up in the air, the hell-goddess' hand around his throat as she slammed him into the sewer wall behind, dust flying with the impact. "You dare to put your hands on Illyria?"

"Look around you!" he glared down at the blue-haired woman even as he signalled Gwen and Connor back. There was little they could do anyway. "We've been walking around here for hours on your say-so. And I know you can hear the same things I can. We deserve some answers!"

"You are correct," the formerly Winifred Brukle admitted grudgingly before lowering him to the ground. "Tens of millions of years ago, when we ruled the world, a race of symobite creatures called Goa'uld attempted to invade this galaxy. Tens of thousands of their ships came and tried to destroy us." Illyria sneered. "But we obliterated them, tore their symboites from their living hosts, and watched them die."

"And now they're back," Connor grimaced. "Never thought I'd want a bunch of Old Ones running wild."

* * *

Bra'tac looked up from his perusal of his computer screen. "Your world has many mighty female warriors. Colonel Sammatha Carter, your wife," he nodded towards Captain Sam Finn, "the Slayers and Witchblade. Most unusual."

"Yeah," Riley agreed, eyes fixed on the road ahead, "well that's what happens when you give them the vote."


	3. Chapter 3

**FIC: Alien-Game (3?)**

Bond scowled as he looked around the demolished fortress. It had taken three torturous, nail-biting, days to make their way to the Council headquarters, avoiding both ground and air patrols. During their journey they'd seen corpses piled high on pyres, and devastated buildings, including the shattered remains of Big Ben and Buckingham Palace.

Bond tore his gaze away from the wrecked structure and to the picture on his laptop. The carnage was a million miles away from the forbidding 11th century castle that had once stood there. "How are we supposed to find someone alive in this?" Frank Martin asked in what Bond had come to recognise as his trademark growl.

"Oh," Bond froze at a cultured voice behind them, "I'd be rather more worried about living through the next few minutes. Raise your hands and turn around, slowly mind. Any sudden movements will result in death."

Bond obeyed, turning in a semi-circle to find his group confronted by a group of hard-looking men and women wielding a collection of medieval weaponry. "Mr. Giles," he directed his gaze to the fifty-something man leading the group, "given what I've read about you, it's a pleasure and an honour to meet you sir."

"You seem to have the advantage of me," the grime-covered and seemingly unimpressed Watcher retorted. "Now we've spent the last three days burrowing out of a caved-in escape tunnel. We're tired, hungry, confused, angry, and dirty. Always an explosive mixture. So we'd appreciate some prompt answers."

"Of course," Bond managed an unruffled nod. "I'm James Bond of her majesty's secret service. This," he nodded towards the shaven-headed muscleman, "is Frank Martin, formerly of the SAS. And Lady Croft-."

"I recognised Lady Croft," the Head Watcher interrupted. "My respect for her is the only reason the three of you aren't lying flat on your backs with bolts through your throats. But my patience is far from infinite."

Bond blinked. Well that was blunt. "The answers are here," he offered his laptop. "If you'd like to have a look."

His fellow Englishman stared at him for a second as if gauging his sincerity before nodding. "Kennedy, please get that computer for me." No-body moved. The Watcher glanced at the petite brunette by his side. "Kennedy, please," the Council head softly repeated.

The blank-eyed beauty nodded before stalking over, snatching the computer and backing away. Giles nodded his thanks before turning to a diminutive youth stood at his other side. "Andrew, if you wouldn't mind."

"Yes Mr. Giles!" the teen eagerly took the computer and began tapping at the keyboard. A few seconds and the boy's head snapped up, eyes alight with excitement. "Aliens! That is so cool!" The excitement dimmed. "Well, except for the dead."

"Aliens!" Giles strode over to the boy. "Andrew! Explain!" The youth gave a garbled but essentially correct explanation of the Goa'uld and Jaffa. Giles' eyes snapped towards him. "And how does the government intend to respond?"

Bond hesitated. "Step one is the enacting of the Pendragon Protocol." He had no idea what that meant.

"Good lord," the astonished look on the faces of the Head Watcher and one of his subordinates, a grey-haired bulldog of a man, proved they at least did. "It's come to this," the man muttered before turning to his companions. "Please, lower your arms." The Watcher turned back to them. "There's twenty-eight of us, we'll need transport to The Cotswolds. More than just your three SUVs."

"There's a largely abandoned village ten miles south of here," Lady Croft suggested. "We could go back, steal some cars, and come back here."

"That's an excellent idea," interjected the older Watcher. "Myself and Robson could go with them, get a couple of extra cars. Oh, and Tracey," the Watcher smiled at a pretty red-head, "you and Camille both passed your tests last month. You two can come too."

"Marvellous," Giles nodded. "By all means. We'll hide in the woodlands by the streams until your return."

* * *

Giles looked around the camp. Night had fallen, his group and Bond's dotted around their camp's half a dozen fires situated in the shadows of a forest. Muttered conversation bubbled around, a dejected air hanging heavy. "God," he let out a rattling sigh and closed his eyes.

Indeed, only God would only know many people had died in the past few days. Certainly millions from all the destruction he'd seen. Tens of millions, maybe hundreds. An entire civilisation, an entire world decimated. "We'll rebuild it better," he promised. Nothing amazed him more than the human race's ability to endure.

Opening his eyes, he looked around and noted a solitary figure sat huddled by a small pool. Sighing slightly, he rose and walked over. "Kennedy." Kennedy didn't look up from her inspection of the shimmering water. Giles bit back a groan. The Slayer hadn't spoken since she'd awoken after Willow's sacrifice. "Perhaps," he sat down on the log beside the Slayer, "you'd like to talk about Willow?" The Slayer remained stubbornly silent. "I know I'd like to talk about her to someone who loved her the way I did." The brunette twitched but didn't speak. "About her laugh, the way she'd babble-."

"I…I miss her!" Suddenly the Slayer began to shake, tears streaking down her face.

Finally, a breakthrough. Giles immediately took the sobbing girl in his arms. "I know dear," he stroked her hair. "I know, so do I."

* * *

"Um," Daniel looked up from his well-leafed book, a familiar puzzled look firmly in place, "I have a question. How are we supposed to find the Cleveland Slayers? It's a big city."

Jack pursed his lips. Daniel had a good point. He'd been too consumed with thoughts of meeting his daughter to actually consider the problem of finding her. "I thought we'd head for their base," he finally replied. "And from there just follow the trail of Jaffa corpses."

"You feel that your ability to cause trouble is a genetic trait?" Teal'c asked. His answering glare bounced off the impassive alien.

* * *

"In here," Faith tossed the crookedly-hanging door aside. After a quick look left and right, she beckoned her companions across the deserted street. Her friends obeyed, a huffing, grimacing Xander bringing up the rear.

Once the last of her party was in, Faith looked around the darkened shop. It had cracked windows, a dusty floor, and several trays filled with bread and pastries on top of its counter. Faith's stomach growled, reminding her just how long it had been since any of them had eaten. "K," she whispered. "Dig in."

As she and the others dived into the food, ignoring the fact it wasn't exactly fresh, Faith realised that one of their group hadn't joined in. Taking a silver tray of donuts, she strode over to Xander sat leaning against the wall. "Here," she whispered as she offered the tray, "ya gotta keep your strength up."

Xander shifted uncomfortably. He didn't complain, but his ribs were obviously still hurting. "I'm not hungry," the man muttered.

"Please, X," Faith pleaded, heart twisting at the desolation on the man's face. "I'm trying to keep it together, but I need your help."

"Okay," her Watcher forced a smile as he reached for a strawberry sugared donut, "thanks."

"I was gonna have that one." X stopped. "Just kiddin'." The Watcher took the donut and bit. "I saw you trying your cell, still nothing?" Faith sighed as Xander shook his head. "Ditto." Faith paused for a second. "I was think maybe we should head to LA." Seeing Xander's eye harden and his donut filled mouth open, Faith hurried on. "I get your worried about Red, B, and G, but I'm worried about Fang too. And if we have been invaded by aliens, there's no way planes are gonna be flying across the pond to Europe. We can at least maybe get to LA."

Xander stared at her for a long second before speaking. "We'll need to get a hold of one of these invaders, see what they exactly are."

Faith nodded. "Deal. But as we don't know how tough they are, leave it to us Slayers, k?"

Her Watcher's lips thinned and his mouth opened in protest. Then he slowly, reluctantly, nodded. "Deal."

"Wicked," Faith nestled into her Watcher's uninjured side. The Californian stared down at her, eyes bemused. "I'm cold, body heat," she lied.

* * *

"Oh no," Angel's blood congealed to ice as he eased the manhole cover aside and peered up into LA.

An ash-grey cloud had settled in the sky, making it impossible to tell if it was day or night. Rubble from LA's levelled buildings littered the cracked roads as far as the eye could see. The same roads were filled with abandoned cars while corpses lay everywhere, the stench of death clogging his nose.

For a long second he stared around, unable to believe what he was seeing and wishing with all his might it wasn't real. "I grow tired of these sewers," Illyria commented beneath him.

"Yeah, sorry." Shaking himself, he climbed out into the battle-ravaged wasteland. Connor and Gwen's faces greyed to the colour of the city as they climbed out. Angel opened his mouth to comfort his son then closed it. Just what could he say?

* * *

Du'kat halted as he caught a glimpse of something moving in the shadows of the mouth of a near-by alley. He levelled his staff weapon at the alley mouth. "Out!" Nothing shifted, but he thought he heard a sharp intake of breath. He fired a blast into the ground at the alley's entrance, burning gravel, before raising the staff again. "Come out," he sternly repeated.

"D..don't shoot!" His mouth dried when a curvy young woman exited the alley, her hands raised in surrender. Du'kat's mouth dried as he stared at the beauty. Black leather stuck to the woman's firm body, the top three buttons of her shirt unbuttoned, giving an alluring hint of her breasts' full swell. Raven hair bounced down onto her shoulder, framing her heart-shaped alabaster face in a pleasing contrast. Full red lips parted in a seductive plea while her soft brown eyes stared at him.

"Spoils of war," Du'kat muttered. His god would be very pleased with this prize. He would gain much prestige when he handed her over. "What is your -." Hearing a sound behind him, he started to turn.

Seeing a black-skinned lovely scurrying across the street, he aimed his weapon. "Halt!"

Hearing a sound to his right, he began to turn again. Seeing a blur drop from the fire escape ahead, he looked up. Before he had time to react his weapon was snatched out of his grasp and an incredibly strong foot smashed into his chest, denting the armour and knocking him onto his back. He tried to rise only to be grabbed around the throat by the leather-clad brunette and flung into the wall, stone chipping under the impact. "Now," the suddenly dangerous-eyed woman snarled, "how about some answers?"

"Shit," Faith shook her head as their prisoner finished speaking. What a fucking mess. "So, aliens?" She started to turn towards Xander. "What are we gonna do -."

An energy blast flew past her, almost singing her hair, and smashed into the Jaffa's head, splattering it onto the gravel behind him. Eyes wide, she join the others in staring at a staff-wielding Xander. "One less to kill," their stone-faced Watcher announced. "We'll head back to the mansion, get some supplies, out of the basement, steal a car, and head to LA. Come on."

* * *

Jack looked at the map and list of directions, and back at the crumpled building. His heart tightening, he passed the list to Sam for her to check, hoping desperately he'd made a mistake. "Is it…." His voice trailed off.

His girl-friend squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry, Jack."

His head dropped as he forced back tears. It was scant days since he'd discovered his daughter and now it seemed he'd lost her before he'd even met her. "If your daughter was in there, it is unlikely she survived, General O'Neill."

"Thanks, Teal'C," he snapped. "I'd managed to work that out for myself." Teal'c raised an unflustered eyebrow.

"Well isn't this cute," a husky voice commented behind them. "The question I gotta ask is what the hell are three air force personnel doin' hangin' with a Jaffa?"

"And," a deeper voice added. "Your answers had better be real convincing."


	4. Chapter 4

**FIC: Alien End-Game (4?)**

San Diego

"And how am I supposed to shop now there aren't any shops?"

Da'Lek turned to see a tiny, blue-eyed blonde behind him, her finger waggling as she spoke. "I mean, there's no-one around to stop me shoplifting now! And that's great, don't get me wrong. But did you have to flatten the shops too?"

Bemused, Da'Lek nonetheless raised his staff and levelled it at the busty blonde, even as he wondered at his symboite's uneasiness. "Come with me."

He gasped when the blonde's face changed into something horrible. "I don't think so, Harmony Kendall only goes anywhere with fashionable men. And you don't qualify." Before Da'Lek could react she'd jumped the 20 feet separating them, knocked him to the ground and his staff away, and was grinning down at him. "Hungry." He screamed as her fangs sunk into his neck. "Ugh," he heard the blue-eyed blonde say as he passed out into unconsciousness. "What is in your blood?"

* * *

Giles stopped at the entrance to The Deeper Well, a sense of awe and history sweeping over him. This place was inarguably the most mystical place on earth, a place of unimaginable supernatural power. He stared at the huge oak towering over his party, its top impaling the stormy sky. "Aren't we going to go in?" Bond asked.

Giles glanced at the British secret agent and smiled wryly. "One doesn't walk blindly into The Deeper Well. This place makes Fort Knox look like it's guarded by Group 4."

"And yet," Giles started when a figure materialised beside the thick tree, "you attempted it."

Giles stared at the muscular figure. The lantern-jawed powerhouse had startlingly clear blue eyes, and was dressed in simple linen trousers and tunic beneath a knee-length, leather-scaled hauberk and brandished a bronze buckler and short sword. "You tried to break into The Deeper Well?" Roger snorted. "You pillock!"

"It was Ethan's idea," Giles defended weakly. "We were high at the time and thought it would be a lark."

"You were fortunate," the stranger intoned. "Most people foolish enough to attempt intrusion don't live to regret it. But The Deeper Well sensed potential in you and held back."

Giles' brow furrowed as he stared at the Well's guardian. "You weren't here when I came here in '74," he accused.

Sadness flickered across the warrior's face. "No indeed," he agreed. "The Well's former guardian died last year. It selected me in his place and imbued me with all its knowledge and experience" The warrior seemed to puff out his chest an extra couple of inches. "I am the Groosalugg." The swordsman paused. "What do you want here?"

Giles bit his bottom lip, unable to believe what he was about to say. "I wish to enact the Pendragon Protocol."

The Groosalugg momentarily closed his eyes. When he opened them, shock was written across his face. "You may bring one other with you."

Giles turned at a hand on his elbow. "I'd love to see the inside of The Deeper Well," Roger muttered, anticipation dancing in his eyes.

"I'm sorry old boy," he apologised in a whisper. "But I'd rather take Kennedy. Perhaps the wonders of The Deeper Well will snap her out of her malaise."

"Bloody hell, you're a soft bugger," Roger scowled before shaking his head. "As you wish."

Giles smiled at the other man's gruff acceptance. "And you are rather softer than you pretend. Thank you," he looked towards the raven-haired Slayer. "Kennedy, with me."

* * *

Jack's heart leapt when he slowly turned to find his team being scrutinised by an one-eyed man clumsily wielding a staff weapon, a frizzy haired woman, and three crossbow-wielding beauties who included his very much alive off-spring. Before he had time to think he'd stepped forward. "Faith!"

The gorgeous brunette's crossbow zeroed in on him, her pool-like eyes narrowing to slits. "Do I know you? 'Cause I'm wicked sure you ain't an ex."

"You are indeed correct, Miss Lehane," Jack groaned as once again Teal'c blundered in where celestial beings had more sense than to stroll. "General O'Neill is your father."

Five jaws hit the ground as one. "F….father," the Slayer stuttered, tongue stumbling over her rosebud lips, "but that's impossible. I….I don't have a father."

"Well biologically speaking everyone has a father," the one-eyed man pointed out.

"When you were in prison, a blood sample was taken," Jack babbled, his usual laconic nature deserting him. "DNA tests were made, our DNA matched-."

Suddenly his newly-discovered daughter was blurring towards them. A backhand slap sent Teal'c cart wheeling when he foolishly attempted to bar the beauty's path. A half-second later and the tiny woman's awesomely strong hand was around his throat, squeezing.

Jack dropped his P90 and grabbed at the young woman's arm but it was like trying to bend a steel bar. You bastard!" the fury in the full-bodied beauty's eyes burnt hotter than any volcano. "Do you have any idea what I've been through 'cause you came and went?"

"Faith," it was the one-eyed man, Xander, his voice strained. "Put him down."

"Why the fuck should I?" the Slayer rasped, eyes continuing to bore through him.

"Because his companions are even now pointing their guns at you. While I'm sure they won't shoot while he's still alive, the moment he dies, you're toast. Because we need some answers about why they're here. And because you don't want to kill again."

"Fine," the Slayer's smile was several degrees south of the Artic, "I won't kill him. But a little pain on the other hand." The last thing he saw before unconsciousness was a clenched fist hurtling towards him.

* * *

Master Bra'tac watched with interest as a crouched Major Finn tapped on a calculator-sized device, varying beeps and hisses originating from it. "What is this device?"

The soldier looked up. "Teams that have tracked the hell goddess in the past have noticed she has an unique energy signature. This device is calibrated to track her."

"A most wondrous instrument," Bra'tac hid his disdain. He preferred to do his hunting the old-fashioned way, but understood the need for speed. He gazed around the destroyed city with a heavy heart. "The Goa'uld's vengeance is truly terrible to behold."

"Yes," Captain Sam Finn looked around, the blonde's face paling.

"The Tau'ri have frequently thwarted the goa'uld's plans. They are like little children when they do not get their own way," Bra'tac looked around. "And earth is now a play-pen where a spoilt child stamps his feet."

"Well," he turned around to see Riley had risen, the machine in his hand. "Let's be the parent who spanks the naughty child. We'll leave the car behind, being on foot will be less obtrusive."

"As you say." Bra'tac agreed. "Where does your machine say we should go?"

The soldier looked at the contraption's readout for a second before looking to the east. "That way."

Bra'tac nodded. "Then follow me." He started across the wasteland, gravel and glass crunching underfoot.

"Hey!" He heard and smiled at Riley's protesting shout from behind. "You get I'm in command, right?" He now understood why Teal'c had stayed on earth for so long, humans were so entertaining.

* * *

The way down into The Deeper Well was via a dusty, seemingly endless spiral stairway, its stone walls worn with the passing of the ages. Finally they found them inside a circular room and stood upon a narrow bridge over an unsettlingly bottomless pit. The Groosalugg turned to them. "Thanks to the Deeper Well I am aware of what happening outside-."

"Why haven't you got involved then?"

Giles rolled his eyes at Kennedy's snap but their host appeared unfazed. "Because," the Groosalugg looked around the scores of tombs slotted into open chambers in the surrounding walls, "the beings here have the power to obliterate the Goa'uld without a second thought. Obliterate all life on earth without a second thought. It is my duty to ensure none escape."

"Oh, I guess that's a good reason," the chastened Slayer muttered.

"Thank you for your approval," the Groosalugg replied. Giles guessed the earnest young man was sincere. Indeed, he somehow doubted the Groosalugg was capable of sarcasm. The Well's guardian turned to him, unsettlingly sapphire eyes stern. "You are sure about Pendragon?"

Giles nodded. "This is Britain's direst hour. It is time the nation's greatest champions returned."

"As you wish," the Groosalugg inclined his head. "Then I will take you to their waiting place. Hold on."

"Hold on to wha-, ahhhhhh!" Kennedy's question turned into a terrified scream when the bridge disappeared from beneath them. They plunged in the Well's unending depths, cold wind whistling around them.

And then they were suddenly stood in a vast hall with walls adorned with tapestries decorated with battle scenes or coats of arms, and a brazier burning in the centre of the floor. Around the brazier, Giles staggered, his legs suddenly rubbery, was built a wooden round table with thirty chairs stood around it. "T…the round table."

"Just so," the Groosalugg agreed. "This was the hall of Camelot where the knights would meet, recount tales of heroism, and receive orders from the first amongst the Order, Arthur himself. Through the Deeper Well I am able to bring you to any point and place in past history. Atlantis, Lemuria, the building of Stonehenge, ancient Egypt, I have seen them all. And now I will summons them from history's corridors. Rupert Giles," the Groosalugg looked at him, "if you please."

"M…..me," Giles gaped at the presumably younger man. "But you're the guardian."

"Exactly," the Groosalugg nodded. "And you are the Summonser. She is the Protector," Kennedy started at that little bombshell. "We all have our roles to play."

"Very well," Giles took a second to stare around the paving-stoned hall, the historian within him taking the opportunity to soak in the place. Finally, reluctantly, he turned back to the Deeper Well's guardian. "What do I do?"

"The power is already within you," the guardian replied. "You were fated to do this. Simply walk around the table and read the nameplates before each seat. As you do so the knights will appear. When you read the last, their consciousness will return."

Giles took a breath and nodded. Stepping forward, he squinted as he read the bronzed nameplate. He was again forced to take a deep breath in a not entirely successful attempt to calm his nerves. "King Arthur." He stepped back and gasped when a towering, broad-shouldered man with a forked brown beard and commanding grey eyes appeared before him. The man was clad in a bronze skull cap, chain-mail shirt and woollen breeches tucked into his knee-length boots while he brandished a spine-tinglingly massive broadsword and buckler. "G….good lord."

Licking his lips, he stepped around the legendary figure and continued on. "Sir Galahad, Sir Lancelot du Lac, Sir Gawain, Sir. Percivale, Sir Lionell, Sir Tristiam de Lyones, Sir Bedivere, Sir Tor, Sir Caradoc, Sir Geranit, Sir Ywain, Sir Gaheris, Sir Gareth, Sir Daniel, Sir Cador, Sir Fergus, Sir Lucan, Sir Breunor, Sir Ironside, Sir Lucan, Sir Palomides, Sir Lamorak, Sir Bors de Gains, Sir Safere, Sir Pelleas, Sir Kay, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Dagonet, Sir Villiars."

Giles' heart quaked with every name, having lovingly first read the publicly known legends of the Round Table Knights and then the privately owned and even more impressive Council records, but he managed to keep his voice steady. As he read the last name, flames shot out of the brazier scorching the ceiling. The knights instantly sat and Arthur's voice boomed out like a lion's roar. "Who brought us here?"

"I…I did, sire," Giles managed to control his legs long enough to step forward. He quaked inwardly when the legendary monarch's penetrating faze turned towards him but managed to meet his glare.

His heart only started again when the ancient knight threw back his head and roared with laughter. "By my Lord Jesu! Is this another Merlin before me? A man of words, wizardry, and war! A most worthy summonser. And pray tell me my good man, what is your name and the year?"

"Mi' lord," some instinct caused Giles to drop one to one knee and bow his head, "I am Rupert Giles of The Watcher's Council and the year is 2005."

"1100 years!" A look of wonder crossed over the bearded monarch's face. "So long. Of The Watcher's Council you say? As was Merlin and fair Gwen."

"In our day it is recorded that Gwen was your wife," Giles said.

Arthur chuckled. "That wildcat was tamed by no man!" Arthur's eyes turned to Kennedy. "And is this fine beauty your Slayer?"

"His protector, sire," Kennedy replied, a rare note of respect in the rebellious Slayer's voice. That cinched it, to get that reaction from Kennedy, he had to be Arthur. Giles wondered whimsically how Faith would react.

Much the same as usual. Probably ask him if his long sword was compensating for something else.

"A strange accent, lass," commented the king. "Are you from Ireland perhaps?"

"A nation far further away, my liege," Giles replied for the brunette.

"Ah," Arthur nodded in vague understanding before narrowing his eyes. "And what great crisis has caused our summonsing?" Giles talked for a few minutes, explaining the situation. "Enemies from the stars. A most astonishing thing." Arthur shook his head. "Enemies from our own world hold no fears, not shall ones from another."

"Great!" Kennedy burst in with all the tact of a raging bull. "Where are the others?"

"There are but score and ten of us," the bearded monarch replied.

Kennedy gasped, disappointment in her eyes. "But I thought there'd be an army?"

"Judge the Knights of the Round Table not by their numbers, but by the number of corpses they leave in their wake," the Groosalugg advised.

* * *

"Owww," Jack groaned as he awoke, jaw and head throbbing. He winced as he felt the swelling on his jaw.

"It appears that Slayer strength is not exaggerated."

"Gee," he groaned again as Teal'c pulled him to his feet, "you think?"

"Oh look," his very much estranged daughter sauntered over to him and Teal'c. She reminded him of a sleek jungle cat. "It's my ever lovin' daddy, ready for round 2, pops?"

"Not really," Jack hid the hurt he felt at his daughter's hostility beneath an easy smile. "I look nothing like Trevor Berbick, and you certainly don't look like Mike Tyson."

If anything the hate in his daughter's eyes blazed even hotter. "Ya think this is funny?" The Slayer started forward.

"Faith!" the one-eyed Watcher's voice rang out. "Not now! We've got more urgent matters!"

The Slayer's fists clenched tightly. "Fine," she finally spoke through gritted teeth. "But this ain't over." Long, full hair swinging wildly, the beautiful brunette spun around and strode back to her companions.

"Bye!" Jack waved after the girl. "Be sure to come back soon!"

The one-eyed Watcher strode over , the look in his eye scarcely more friendly than Faith's. "You might think this is funny, but after what Faith's been through she doesn't. And I'm in her camp, so let's get Spawn, kick the goa'uld off our planet, and you and Faith can go your separate ways. And you can carry on not caring."

"But I do care," he muttered as the youth strode away.

* * *

"Do you hear that, Connor?" His son nodded. Angel looked over his shoulder to the others. "There's fighting going on over there. Let's see what's happening."

"Let us kill some goa'uld." Illyria agreed.

"I'm down with that," Connor agreed."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **For the record, I don't think Faith should be acting like this towards Jack. I do think she would act this way though. My including her actions should not be construed as approval of her behaviour.

**FIC: Alien-Game (5?)**

Bond glanced at his watch's illuminated dial and then at the lightening sky. Not that it lightened all the way of course, there was too much ash and dust in the atmosphere for it to be truly bright. "We'll have to make a move for cover soon," he said to his companion.

"No," the deputy Council chief shook his head, a mulish look on his face. "The woods here provide us with more than enough cover. Besides," Whyndham-Pryce smiled, "Rupert has an uncanny knack of coming through when one least expe-," the Watcher's face paled, "good god." The man dropped to one knee and bowed his head.

Brow furrowing and hand dropping to his Walther PPK, Bond twisted at the waist to look in the direction his aging country-man was looking. And joined the others in dropping to one knee, such was the commanding aura of the man striding beside Rupert Giles. It had to be Arthur, none of the kings, generals, and politicians Bond had met came close to his air of majesty.

The bearded monarch nodded as he cast an eye over them. "It is good that this time has warriors," the king commented. "Take me-."

One of their perimeter guards burst into view. Eyes widening, the Slayer looked first towards their new 'guests' and then to the Head Watcher. "Mr. Giles, eight Jaffa are heading this way-."

"Lancelot, Gawain, Galahad, Tristiam, attend me!" boomed the king. The air sang as five swords were simultaneously drawn from their scabbards. "We will kill these invaders."

"Um, I don't wish to question you, sire," Giles interjected. "But you have far more knights available."

"HA!" the king snorted. "That is hardly chivalrous, sage Rupert. Move your people with mine to the woods left and right. And watch and learn what a Round Table knight can do."

Once they'd moved to the forest, leaving the clearing to Arthur and his four chain-mailed companions, Bond found himself next to the head Watcher, the pretty American Slayer lurking watchfully behind his fellow country-man. "He's really Arthur?" he hissed.

The Oxford graduate shrugged. "So it would appear." His fellow countryman fell silent as the aforementioned aliens entered the clearing.

"You godless bastards!" roared Arthur, his bellow seeming to shake the surrounding trees. "You have the affront to invade fair England?"

"Jaffa! Kree!" the lead Jaffa shouted, his own voice sounding pitiful next to Arthur's.

The knights surged forward even as the aliens began to raise their weapons. Eyes widening, the head Jaffa changed his staff raise into a block. The Jaffa stumbled backwards as England's greatest legend smashed his buckler into his face. Crimson covering his face, the alien fell to one knee. Before the Jaffa had chance to right himself a back-handed slash had decapitated him.

A pair of flanking Jaffa attempted to train their weapons on the bearded regent. Arthur stepped into the Jaffa to his right, elbow smashing into his rival's forehead. Knocked off balance, the alien took a back-step. The king twisted to his left, sword arching through the air to take another head. The Jaffa to Arthur's right managed to get an energy blast off, but the monarch managed to block it on his shield before bringing his sword down on the man's head, cleaving into his skull.

"Bugger me," Giles muttered as the last Jaffa crumpled to the ground. Already the Jaffa's blood was turning the clearing's lush greenness to a rusty brown. "It seems that the tales of the Round Table weren't exaggerated."

"Don't worry Giles," Kennedy commented from behind. "I'll protect you."

"Yes," his fellow Englishman sniffed. "Very amusing."

* * *

"I didn't know about you."

Faith's head snapped up at the middle-aged man's approach. Her eyes narrowed. "And I wish I didn't know about you." She began to turn away.

"If I'd have known I'd have at least tried-."

"So you're another of my mom's one-night, correction one-hour, screws?" she spat, her temper rising. "Newsflash, Faith. Your mom's a slut. Big fucking revelation! Although," she sneered, "ya might have been useful come prison visiting. Ya know, for the variety."

She was gratified by the man's flinch. "Well maybe I can get to know you now?"

"Sure," Faith stood and glared at the man. "Faith Lehane, daughter of a junkie ho and apparently an air force general. Beaten and ignored by my mom half my life. Ignored by her boy-friends too, least until I started to show." Faith smirked cruelly at the General's blanch. By the time she'd finished with the fucker he'd want nothing to do with her. On balance she'd rather beat the bastard half to death, but if she ever wanted to get back into X's pants she'd have to curb her murderous impulses.

So disgust was the way to go. "Then, when it got too much, I ran away. Spent almost a year living on the streets doing what a hottie does to get by before I was picked up by this English chick." Faith paused, hiding the pain the memories caused behind a stony visage. "First person to ever treat me decent. 'Course she needed me to be her little killing machine." That wasn't true, Faith told herself, Kathy had really cared. "When she died, I ended running half-way 'cross the country, fleeing the baddest demon I'd ever seen. I ended up in a fleapit motel in Sunnydale, with the junkies, thieves, and other low-rent scum. Right back at home, really. But hey, I had fun, got my thrills off any stud who caught my eye while turning into a serial killer. At least I got to meet the Mayor though. He was a black arts sorcerer wanting to ascend to demonhood, but still the best parent," her eyes impaled her audience of one, "best father I ever had. Then after my several month coma I ended up in jail. And wasn't that a blast, teaching the bulls I wasn't the easy meat I looked?"

"Are you finished?" The general asked after a long silence. Eyes still fixed on her biological father, Faith nodded. "Seems to me you missed a lot out. Slaying Kakistos. Helping stop the Sisterhood of Jhe. Giving yourself up to the police even though they'd never have caught you. Stopping Angelus. Helping save the world from the First. Helping Dana regain her sanity. Slaying Zarkii and Hahn, and saving the world from Noonshade. There's plenty to be proud of and I am." The general turned and walked away.

Faith waited a second before sitting down, eyes fixed on the gravel beneath her feet. That hadn't gone how she'd planned it. She figured the general would be disgusted by her. Instead he'd thrown all the good stuff back in her face. And where in the hell did he get off being proud of her? She was fuck all to do with him!

"Greetings, Faith Lehane."

Faith groaned at the deep voice behind her. "Listen up Teak, or whatever the hell your name is. I really don't wanna talk to you. One, you're a Jaffa. And two, you're wicked pally with the sperm-donar. So ya wanna play nice with the others, that's five by five, but stay the hell out of my face."

The Jaffa walked around and stopped in front of her, apparently unpreturbed by her warning. "Your behaviour towards General O'Neill is most unseemly. He is a fine man."

Faith glowered up at the muscle-bound alien. "Bet you're wicked proud of that deep voice. 'Less ya wanna voice some octaves higher, stay the fuck out of my business."

The black man nodded. "As you wish," he replied before walking off.

"How To Win Friends And Influence People by Faith Lehane. I see a career in the bestseller lists in your future."

Faith smiled despite herself. "Fuck you, Harris."

"Well last time was fun," her Watcher sat beside her, "but on this surface? Forget carpet burns I'd up with gravel scars." Faith snorted. "My dad was a sleazy drunk who hit on all of my female friends. Well except Will, she was 'that damn kike'. General O'Neill seems like a man anyone would -."

"He was never there, Harris. He's twenty-three years too late, why the hell should I let him off the hook?"

"Your choice," Xander seemed unconcerned by the ice in her voice. The Watcher began to rise. Faith shot out a hand, grabbing Xander's arm around the wrist. The Californian looked down, eyes quizzical.

"Stay," Faith shrugged uncomfortably, "I don't wanna be alone."

"A beautiful woman desires my company?" Faith shook her head when Xander attempted a courtly bow. "One would be a fool to say no."

"Idiot," Faith couldn't prevent a half-smile.

"As madam says."

* * *

"Now Gwen!" At his shout, the former thief rose over their makeshift barricade and stretched out her bare arms. Lightning bolts shot out of the beauty's hands, engulfing the nearest half a dozen Jaffa. His eyes widened as he saw a Jaffa off the left aiming his staff at the electric girl. "Down!" Leaping into the air, he crashed into Gwen, knocking her and him into the ground.

The supple woman grinned up at him. "Angel, isn't this sexual harassment in the workplace?"

"Enough of this foolishness!" roared Illyria. Angel groaned as the hell-goddess sprang into action. With her around plans never lasted long. It was amazing really, an immortal being having so little patience.

Energy blast after blast smashed into the hell goddess with little apparent effect as she raged into the remaining Jaffa. Angel winced as he watched the blue-haired Old One tear through the Jaffa ranks, her movements a barely traceable blur.

Suddenly the goddess had a pock-marked Jaffa by the throat. "And so die all the servants of the -."

"Wait!"

Angel's eyes widened as he recognised the young man charging up behind the vainly-struggling Jaffa. And he thought things couldn't get worse. "Illyria!" he leapt to his feet. "Wait! Don't do anything!"

* * *

"These are your vehicles?" Arthur peered at the SUVs. "But where are their horses?"

"They work off science, sire." Giles shot Andrew a warning look. Somehow he doubted the monarch would be interested in the workings of the combustion engine.

"Ah, science." The once and future king, Giles' brow furrowed as he remembered that troubling part of Arthurian prophecy, nodded. "Merlin was frequently attempting experiments with chemicals and the like." Arthur looked around. "We will need more vehicles than this."

"Oh bugger," Giles muttered as he shot Bond a worried glance. The regent had a point. "Tomorrow night, we'll steal into town, and steal some cars from a near-by village. If that meets with your satisfaction, sire," he hurriedly added.

The king's answering smile had a wryness about it. "This is your time not mine. The Deeper Well chose you as my summonser. I will trust your guidance until you give me such reason to doubt it."

"So no pressure then," Giles muttered dourly before raising his voice and bowing slightly. "I thank you for your trust, sire." He turned to the others. "We'll have to keep hidden until tonight everyone."

* * *

"He hurt Faith."

"It's not as simple as that, Dana," Xander gently chided as he stepped into the line of vision between Faith's number one fan and the crouched SG-1 team. "He didn't know about her."

The Slayer's eyes blazed as she glared up at him. "Parents should protect you. My parents tried-," the raven-haired beauty looked down, "tried to save me."

"I know Dan," Xander placed his hands on the Slayer's shoulders. "But Faith loves you like a little sister doesn't she?" the Slayer nodded unwillingly. "And she wouldn't want you to hurt anyone on her behalf would she?" The Slayer pouted. Xander raised an eyebrow. "Would she?"

"No," the Slayer muttered.

"Good girl. Now why don't you go spar with Rona?" He smiled sadly as the good-hearted, but extremely troubled girl strode off.

"Thanks for that, Xan." Xander turned to find himself being watched by the east coast Slayer. "I might have issues with pops, but I wouldn't want Dana to get herself into trouble 'cause of her loyalty to me."

Xander shrugged, embarrassed by the praise. "No big deal. I see Harry's spending a lot of time with Dr. Jackson."

"Oh yeah," Faith's eyes sparkled with rare amusement. "It's like a moth to a flame. The doc's pumping her like crazy, trying to find out which legends are true. If Doc J ever met G," Faith paused to shake her head, "Tweed would get his own stalker."

"Right," Xander nodded and turned to go and supervise the sparring Slayers.

"X," he turned back to a serious again Faith. "Thanks for dealing with Dan, you did a great job, she really respects you."

Xander reddened. "She's one of my girls, I couldn't let her hurt herself."

"One of your girls?" Faith tilted her head to one side, a terrifying glint in her eyes. "Am I one of your girls?"

Oh boy, Xander just knew he was on shaky ground and getting shakier by the second. "I…if you want to be."

"Maybe I don't wanna be one of your girls." Faith's hips swung hypnotically as she stalked over to him. "Maybe I wanna be your only girl."

And Xander felt the ground give way under him. It probably had more sense than to stick around but not him. He looked down, nope, his legs were still were he'd left them. "Um, well, ah," Xander stumbled verbally. "Faith, I know it's been a shock meeting your dad, and being invaded by aliens, but you shouldn't rush into anything."

"I wanted ya before this shit went down." Xander blinked. "Question is," desperation flickered in the Slayer's dark orbs, "do ya want me?"

"Faith, you're the most amazing, most beautiful girl I've ever met, of course I want you."

Faith smirked, a familiar cockiness returning to her eyes. "Sealed with a kiss." Taking his head in her hands, the sexy Bostonian pulled him down and pressed their lips together. The last time they'd kissed had been hot and passionate, but this time it was slow and tender, the beauty's soft tongue exploring his mouth, her strong yet gentle hands caressing his face. Finally the young woman pulled away with a wink. "I don't think any local restaurants are open so we'll have to wait on that first date."

* * *

Illyria glared up at the flailing alien. "No servant of the Goa'uld should be suffered to live."

"Illyria!" she turned to see a stranger approaching, hands held out in supplication. "Master Bra'tac has renounced the Goa'uld as false gods whose majesty cannot compare to you."

"You speak honeyed words, but," Illyria tossed the wheezing alien aside, "I find that I like them."

"Riley, what are you doing here?" Illyria glanced towards the vampire who fancied himself as their leader.

"Angel." Illyria smiled at the chill in the man's voice. "I'm here as a representative of the Initiative," the vampire groaned. "We're currently gathering together the nation's supernatural forces for a strike back." The soldier paused. "Another team is picking up Faith." Angel nodded and turned away only to stop at the soldier's voice. "Buffy's house was in the direct line of fire of one of the motherships. The Italian agents that were watching her for when Spike went rogue again haven't reported in. She's dead, Angel."


	6. Chapter 6

**FIC: Alien End-Game (6?)**

"I should go with you," Kennedy insisted.

Giles resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Bloody Slayers, it seemed pig-headedness was a trait in every single bleedin' one of them. "My dear girl," he starchy replied, "I'm quite capable of looking after myself."

The diminutive beauty glared up truculently. "The Groosalugg," the heiress thumbed over her shoulder towards the Deeper Well, "said I was your Protector!" Giles opened his mouth in a protest. "Willow would want me to protect you."

Ah, Giles grimaced, a woman's most potent weapon, emotional blackmail. Bugger, he was only a mere man and as such totally defenceless. "Very well," he grumpily conceded. He was momentarily dazzled by the heiress' smile. "You'll drive down with me, then grab a car, and drive back on your own. Who do you want to lead the Slayers in your absence?"

"Athena," was the unsurprising reply. Not only was the Greek Slayer Kennedy's best Slayer friend, she was the second oldest, and a fellow Council-discovered Potential, meaning her training was not in doubt.

"Very well," Giles nodded. "Then go and tell her." The young woman turned away. "And Kennedy?" The beautiful brunette stared enquiringly at him. "Thank you. Willow would be extremely touched by your loyalty."

The journey to the near-by village was a nail-biting affair. They'd driven through the narrow, winding country lanes leading to it without lights for fear of alerting enemy patrols, eyes straining through the darkness. Twice they'd been forced to pull over as Death Gliders flew overhead.

Upon reaching the village Giles parked up outside just the sort of country pub he'd have loved to spend an afternoon in. If Andrew would leave him alone for long enough of course. Smartsville was a typically rustic country village, complete with thatched roofed cottages, carefully-tended gardens, and even a communal green. He shook his head as he climbed out.

"What's wrong?"

Giles started at his companion's whisper. In the village's dark silence it was easy to forget he wasn't alone. He looked towards his companion. "I was just thinking that even if we win, nothing will ever be the same again."

"When we win we'll just have to make everything better than it was."

Giles smiled slightly at the Slayer's spirited reply. "Quite right, dear," he murmured before turning to the other cars' occupants. "We'll need SUVs or People Carriers, spread out, but stay in eye range of your partners."

It took almost half an hour and him breaking into four garages to find a suitable car, a dark green, 3 year old People Carrier. "Excellent," Giles beamed.

"Jaffa, kree!"

"Oh bugger." Giles started to turn to face the quintet of aliens behind them, hands rising in supplication.

Before he could order her not to, the always reckless Slayer was blurring into action, drawing her two knives and flinging them at the two nearest Jaffas. Both knives thudded into the invaders' throats, but the second got off a shot that seared into the beauty's chest, twisting her around and sending her crashing to the ground like a puppet's whose strings had been cut. "Yooooowwww!"

"Bastards!" All thoughts of biding his time fled at the Slayer's screech. Leaping forward, he cannoned a left hook into the nearest Jaffa's mouth. Even as he drew back to slam a follow-up right cross into the alien's mouth, a pain exploded in the back of his head.

Head swimming, he stumbled down to one knee. Before he had chance to react, the staff weapon crashed into the back of his head again and he fell forward, face bouncing off the wet tarmac.

&&&

Faith grinned as she watched Xander joke with Dana and Rona. He was so damn good with them, so caring. And, her smirk widened, he was hers. A for real great guy, nothing fancy, not rich, or wicked smart, or movie-star handsome, but a decent man who tried his hardest by the people he cared for. Damn, she was so sick of strutting assholes who thought the best way to get a chick was by treating her like shit.

Her smirk faded as she remembered the last two days, the frantic journey to Chicago to find Spawn. There had been more than the occasional close call with Jaffa land and air patrols, but that tension had been nothing next to being cooped up with her pop having to restrain her urge to punch her fist through his face while he stared at her like he was a desert nomad and she was an oasis. If the fucker was looking for salvation, she sure as hell wasn't gonna play ball.

"I saw you kissing Xander before."

"Oh for fuck's sake," Faith muttered under her breath. First pops, then his best friend, and now his main squeeze. Who next? His freakin' Sunday School teacher? Faith didn't bother to turn towards the blonde. "Look," she drawled. "I had enough wicked step-fathers growing up. I really don't need a wicked step-mon now I'm all woman sized."

"General O'Neill is a fine man," the older woman didn't miss a beat at Faith's faked yawn. "All he needs is a chance. He's really hurting -."

"He's really hurting?" Faith spun to face the Colonel, the last of her patience evaporating. "He's really hurting?" Faith jabbed a finger in the other woman's face. "What about all the Christmases and birthdays he wasn't there for? What about all the times the other kids laughed at me for not having a pop? What about all the times I thought I was the most alone person in the world? What about all the times he should have been there to protect me!" Faith finished with a scream. Why did this happen now? Why not twenty years ago when she needed him? "You stay the fuck out of my way unless," she snatched the shocked soldier's P90 out of her hands, "ya want this shoving up your ass!" Realising that everyone was looking at her, she dropped the gun at the other woman's feet, and looked challengingly around, her gaze stopping at her biological father. "You, you're a fuckin' sperm-donor and that's it! Ya ain't got any claim on me," she looked over to Xander and the others. "They're my family, not you. And I don't want any more family, 'specially those who turn up two decades too late. Once this is over, I see ya again, it's the beating of your life as a receipt for all the stuff you weren't there for."

&&&

"Who is this Buffy?" Illyria demanded.

Connor shrugged. "A Slayer dad dated before Cordelia. Dad talks about her, but I zone out. Listening to him talk about her is the greatest known cure for insomnia," the hybrid shrugged again. "Seen photos, okay I suppose, but not a patch on Cordelia."

"And this Riley?" Illyria continued. "Who is he?"

Connor looked towards the apparently military officer. "That I don't know," the vampire's offspring admitted.

Illyria stalked over to the vampire slouched against a half-destroyed wall. "Your grief flows off you like a waterfall," she snapped. "Build a memorial to your mate with the bodies of your victims."

The half-breed briefly changed to his demonic face before straightening and nodding. "Yeah," he agreed. "That sounds like a plan. Riley, let's go!"

&&&

Kennedy groaned as she awoke, soft fingers trailing down her face. "Are you alright?" Lady Croft whispered.

For a second luxuriated in the beautiful woman's touch. And then she jerked as she flashed back to the fight. "Giles?" she frantically looked around as she struggled to a sat position.

Frank Martin crouched down beside Lady Croft. "We thought you split up?"

"No." Kennedy's eyes widened as realisation hit. "We need to find him and fast!"

Kennedy tried to struggle to her feet, but although her wound had already begun to heal, Martin was able to place his hands on her shoulders and force her weakened body back down. The shaven-headed man stared down at her, apparently unfazed by her wilting stare. "We need to get you some medical treatment. If you weren't a Slayer, you'd probably be dead or dying." Kennedy's protests were ignored as the man humiliatingly scooped her into his arms and carried her into the waiting vehicle.

The journey back to the others was a grim affair. Every twist and turn of the country road sent waves of pain crashing through her, but the physical hurt was unimportant next to the crushing knowledge she'd failed Willow.

By the time their convoy reached their base her physical pain had eased but her guilt had changed to a deep despondency. She allowed herself to be helped but not carried out of the car by a solicitous Lady Croft.

The king strode into view, Galahad and Lancelot flanking him as always. The monarch looked around. "Such marvellous ve-." Kennedy had to resist flinching when the legend's eyes hardened. "Where is sage Rupert?"

"I…I lost him," Kennedy stutteringly admitted.

"Lost him?" Arthur's sword hissed as he drew it. "You were attacked?" Too intimidated by the legendary monarch and guilt-ridden by her failure to speak, Kennedy could only manage a nod. "And yet he lives!"

"How do you know?" Bond demanded, the secret agent's tone clearly sceptical, even as her eyes shot up to stare at the centuries-old regent.

Arthur's eyes snapped to the British spy. "He is my summonser, I would know it it was otherwise." The king turned his searching gaze back to her, eyes boring into her soul. "Will you join us in searching for the man you are foresworn to protect?"

"We have our orders-."

"Orders!" The monarch cut off Bond with an impatient shake of his head. "Orders are unimportant next to the principles I built my kingdom on, the virtues of honour and loyalty." Again the legendary warrior turned to her. "Will you join us?" Kennedy nodded. "Ah," the king smiled. "You have spirit, lass. You remind me of fair Gwen. Come, we will march now!"

"Uh," Kennedy raised a hesitant hand. "We could take the car?"

&&&

"Maybe I should speak to her?"

Jack didn't bother to look up from his console at Daniel's suggestion. He didn't have to ask who 'her' was. "You're a great negotiator, Daniel, but you'd have more joy brokering a Tok'Ra – Goa'uld treaty."

"Maybe if you give her time…"

"Time?" Jack turned to his friend. "She's had plenty of that. Twenty-three years of it to build up a big hate for me."

They turned to the left at the sound of gravel crunching. Jack looked up from his seat to see his daughter's Watcher and apparently new boyfriend staring down frostily. Jack winced. Just how much had the one-eyed man heard?

"We're heading for the suburbs he was known to patrol and looking for signs of him attacking Jaffa patrols," Daniel replied in his trademark reasonable tone.

Which failed to defrost the one-eyed man's gaze in the slightest. "That's it?" he demanded. Jack nodded. The young man shook his head and snorted. "American military strategising in action. Gotta love it!" the youth turned on his heel and walked off.

Daniel looked expectantly at him. "What?" Jack snapped. The archaeologist looked towards the departing man. "I don't suppose I'll get any peace otherwise. And for the record, I hope you're not going to nag like this when we're married!" Sighing slightly, he rose and hurried after the younger man, while all the time wondering what he was going to say. Finally he settled on banal praise. "Your record as a demon hunter is very impressive, especially considering your lack of formal training or special powers."

"Look," the young man turned to face him, his face older than anyone his age should be. "I've had enough of people trying to use me to get what they want. Faith's my Slayer," a look of wonder flickered across the Sunnydaler's face, "my girl. If she doesn't want you, then what she says goes. And if," Jack had to stop himself from flinching when the younger man's eye blazed, "you hurt her, your tame Jaffa, the whole air force, hell the entire military won't be able to stop me dismembering you."

"Damn it," Jack muttered as the young man turned and walked away. "I don't want to hurt her. I just want to get to know her."

&&&

"This prison ship," Angel spoke distractedly, just wanting to keep his mind off the hollow pain inside him. "Why do the goa'uld use this for all the super-powered types? They don't seem the merciful type." Angel cast a look out of the window, staring bleakly at the crushed buildings, scattered fires, and corpses littering the wasteland. "And logically speaking, these people are the sort you'd kill first, not keep alive."

His question was directed at Riley but it Master Bra'tac who answered. "You are correct," the pock-marked Jaffa replied. "A wise warrior slays their most powerful opposition at the start of the battle, when they themselves are at the strongest. But the goa'uld are an arrogant people, and a parasite race that are constantly searching for better, stronger hosts. They will doubtless be experimenting on your world's heroes to see if there is anyway they can be made suitable for implantation, utilising their powers without losing control they crave."


	7. Chapter 7

**FIC: Alien End-Game (7/?)**

Giles groaned as he awoke. It took him a few pained moments to focus. When he did, he profoundly wished he hadn't gone to the effort. He was in an oval-shaped, high-roofed room, manacled by his wrists and ankles to a steel-cold crucifix, facing a Jaffa with a gold sigil on his forehead.

"I am Axtro, First Prime Of Sammael," the tall, gaunt Jaffa proudly announced.

"And I'm Rupert Giles," he tried and failed to shrug. "I'd shake your hand only I'm somewhat encumbered. You understand."

The alien ignored his comment. "We find mention in your government records of a Watcher's Council. We don't understand what this is, but we know you are considered important. As a result, you are on a list-."

"Ah, I'd watch yourself if I was you," he warned. "We had a chap a few decades ago who thought it fit to put people on lists, he came to a very bad end."

Again it was if he hadn't spoken. "You will be transported to our lord's prison ship."

"Sounds delightful. To quote a number of extremely annoying Californians of my acquaintance 'can I take a rain check?'."

"And you will be tortured."

"What, a few days on earth and you already have a collection of Buck's Fizz's records?" Giles shook his head and tutted. "For an all-conquering invader, your priorities are sadly skewed."

"Soon your jests will be replaced by screams," the alien promised before turning on his heel and striding off.

"Bet he gets invited to a lot of parties," Giles riposted even as a dead feeling formed in his stomach. Last time he'd been in a situation this problematic, Angelus had been involved. And wasn't that a memory to keep one warm in the dark moments.

* * *

"Does she make you happy?"

Riley started at the voice behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see the demon silhouetted in the darkness behind him. "Sam? Yes, she makes me happy."

"You're lucky," a melancholy look flickered across the vampire's face. "It seems I lose everyone I love – Doyle, Cordelia, Fred, Wesley, Gunn, and now Buffy."

"You still have him," Riley nodded towards Connor stood beside the truck talking to Gwen.

"Aye," the vampire smiled and nodded. "I have him." The smile was gone as quickly as it had appeared. "What's the plan when we meet up with Faith and the others?"

"Faith's being hunted down by General Jack O'Neill and his team, legends who've saved this world about ten times in the past decade," Angel raised an eyebrow at his revelation. "Our plan is to gather our forces, hit the prison ship, free the captives, and start a rebellion with those forces."

"Sounds a bit sketchy to me," the vampire commented.

"Have you got any better ideas?" he challenged.

"No, doesn't mean it's a good idea though." The vampire shrugged as if conceding the point, at least for now. "Why these champions and not me?"

Riley chuckled, genuinely amused by the vampire's question. "Feeling left out, Angel?" he chuckled again before shaking his head. "It's not a question of worthiness. It's a question of publicity. The existence of vampires, Slayers, has never been acknowledged by the world's governments or publicised widely in the reputable media. The theory is that the goa'uld watched our transmissions from space, all the heroes made us a juicy target. Those who flew under the public's radar were either inadvertently killed in the first wave of attacks like Buffy, Tru Davies, and the Charmed Ones, or are being rounded up by us for this counter-attack."

"Well that answers a few questions anyway."

Riley heard Angel's shocked gasp at being caught unawares. The demon joined him in spinning around to face a powerfully-built, grim-faced African-American. "Who are you?" Angel demanded a second before he could, the vampire's voice hoarse with tension.

"Name's Blade," the muscular black chuckled at their shocked reaction. "Relax, vampire. I'm not here to kill you, I'd come to LA to check if the rumours about you were true. As they were, I was about to leave when the attacks began."

"And now?" Connor demanded, Riley noted the others had walked up to surround them in a protective half-circle.

Blade half-smiled. "Now, you have another team member."

* * *

Jack O'Neill looked left and right as he led his patrol through another ruined part of the Windy City. His heart tore as he noticed the once proud buildings turned to rubble even as he also registered and rejoiced the broken bodies of Jaffa littering the ground. Something bad, something very bad had obviously torn through them.

After another look around, he crouched down behind a huge chunk of fallen masonry and glanced over his shoulder. "Teal'c?"

"These bodies fell less than half a day ago," Teal'c announced before looking up, "they were not killed by any weapon I reco-."

A pile of rubble to their left exploded upwards, a figure dressed entirely in midnight black armour bursting out of it. Tentacles shot out of the creature's armour before any of them had chance to react, shooting towards them. Jack gasped as one of the tendrils smashed into his chest, knocking him onto his back.

Dazed, he could only manage to look around to see the figure that he presumed to be Spawn had done the same to the rest of them, excepting Teal'c who he held in the air, tentacle wrapped around his throat, the alien's muscles fruitlessly at the restraint. "A Jaffa with humans, interesting. I'll-."

"Hey dumbass!" The creature's head snapped back when a rock thudded against the side. "Love the tentacles and everything, they could come in wicked handy in the bedroom, but Jesus, you're not too bright are you? The fact he's with humans not clue you in?" His daughter strutted in front of the demon, an unfazed look on her beautiful face. "Hey, I could give a shit about him," Faith thumbed at Teal'c. "That dumbass is best buds with just about the biggest asshole I know. But he ain't on the bad guys' side. So, as a fellow redemption seeker, I gotta tell ya, killing him is the wrong thing to do."

Spawn chuckled. "You amuse me, girl."

"Yeah, I'm a regular gag reel," Faith looked towards Teal'c. "Ya gonna put him down?"

"Always been a sucker for a pretty face," Spawn replied before dropping Teal'c to the ground. "Who are you folks?"

"It appears Faith's got your way with words and love of diplomacy," Daniel commented as he gingerly rose. "Must be genetic."

"That's my team, the Three Stooges of space exploration," Jack grunted.

* * *

"Is it your wound or your loss of sage Rupert that ails you, lass?"

Kennedy started at the deep voice beside her. She'd been too lost in watching the dancing campfire and thoughts of Willow and Giles to hear his approach. Cursing herself for her distraction, she looked up. "I failed him."

"Failed him did you?" Arthur rumbled. "My knights are men of might one and all. Should on some evil whim they come at me en masse not even I would be able to prevail. And yet I would not turn from such a battle, for in truth my conscience would not allow it."

"But-."

"No buts lass," the king of legend shook his head. "Winning his battles does not mark a warrior as a hero. Fighting the righteous battle no matter what, no matter the odds or the enemy, marks one as a champion. And this battle is far from finished. Neither victor nor loser has been decided." The renowned monarch paused. "Your Rupert is far from the first Watcher I have known."

"You said Merlin was a Watcher," Kennedy felt moved to comment.

"Nay lass," the Englishman shook his head. "Merlin was the Watcher. England's first, the founder of the Council, though he said the Slayer lineage went back far, far further. I was a boy king of not yet twenty years, struggling to hold my fledging kingdom together, when I first met Merlin, Gwen was five years my junior and newly called. Together we formed the Round Table to aid the Slayer, a mighty power that wiped demon and vampire from England and their neighbours' green and pleasant lands. For five and score glorious years my knights and I rose alongside fair Gwen-."

"Gwen was Slayer for twenty five years!" Kennedy's mouth dropped open.

Arthur raised a bushy eyebrow at her shocked tone. " Do Slayers not live so long these days, lass?"

"No." After a few seconds she managed to shake her head. "There was a Slayer in 14th Century Spain who lived for twelve years, one in 16th century Russia who managed ten, and Buffy is almost at a decade. But most less than two years, although we haven't lost any in eighteen months."

"Ah," the king sighed. "It seems the Council is not what it once was."

"Until Giles took over it was pretty corrupt," Kennedy admitted.

"It saddens yet not surprises me. Man has learnt little in eleven hundred years." The king scowled, beard seeming to bristle with outrage. "It seems some lessons need re-learning."

* * *

Angel looked across at his son in his seat opposite him in the back of the truck, noting Connor's stiffening. "What is it?"

Connor ignored his question in favour of standing and banging repeatedly on the panel separating them from the truck's cab. "Pull over!"

The lorry shuddered to a halt and then the window slot was pulled back. "What's wrong?" Riley demanded.

"There's humans back there, a lot of them," Connor retorted. "I can smell them."

Riley scowled. "Are you sure?"

"Connor doesn't get these things wrong," Angel defended.

"Damn," Riley's scowl deepened. "It'll be a work camp. They've been setting them up throughout the country. Well," the soldier sighed, "there's nothing we can do-;"

"Like hell!" Connor snapped, eyes flaming with indignation. "We're supposed to help people."

"He's right," Angel offered his son support. "We can't just turn away."

Riley's mouth opened and shut several times before he finally spoke through gritted teeth. "Fine, we'll take a look at nightfall. But if we do help them escape, they're on their own from that point on."

"Deal," Angel agreed. Seeing his son's mouth open, he shook his head warningly. There were limits to what they could do.

* * *

"You used to be an assassin, right?"

Spawn looked away from his inspection of the devastated city to the sleek beauty staring at him. "Yeah," he growled.

The coal-eyed brunette appeared unaffected by his frosty attitude. Instead she sat down beside him. "I used to be an assassin too," the girl continued with an irritating candour. "Didn't kill many, one by accident but that was before I was an assassin. I killed one and tried to kill two others, one who's my best friend now." The leather-clad woman paused before shooting him a haunted look. "I wasn't much of an assassin, but sometimes all the guilt threatens to swallow me whole. How do ya cope with it?"

Simmons groaned inwardly. From what he'd seen of the buxom Slayer, she was a stubborn kid, unlikely to be off by rudeness or satisfied with anything less than a full and frank answer. "You've got to learn to forgive yourself."

"And how do you do that?" demanded his persistent companion.

"I guess by learning not to hate yourself, those you've wronged, those who've wronged you. By letting go of your anger at the world."

The raven-tressed temptress shot the older of the air force men a troubled look. "Easier said than done. Easier said than done."


	8. Chapter 8

**FIC: Alien End-Game (8/?)**

Giles shuffled wearily on, a yoke around his neck, constraining his arms and chains securing his ankles. All around him and his fellow prisoners were grim-faced Jaffa, stewarding them towards a ring-platform for transportation to one of their blasted motherships. "I could get used to having a Watcher chained up like this. I'm surprised Buffy or Faith never thought of it before."

Even as Giles dazedly heard and recognised the cocky voice Kennedy and the Round Table knights glided out of the darkness. The Jaffa immediately to his right started to turn to face the intruders. Before he could ready his weapon, his head was flying into the cold night air, decapitated by a single sword swing by Lancelot. Blood spurted out to drench the knight even as the rampaging warrior continued on.

It seemed to Giles' amazed eyes that the knight moved with an almost Slayer-like speed. Another Jaffa stepped in his path. The alien was unable to level his staff before Lancelot's shield smashed into his face and his back-handed sword slash took the Jaffa's head off. The knight sidestepped a staff blast from another Jaffa, his blade chopping down to rip through the alien's left knee. Blood pumping out of the severed limb, the screaming Jaffa fell on his face.

And then just as suddenly as the attack had begun it was over, dead and dying Jaffa lying everywhere, the ground soaked with their viscera. "Sage Rupert," Giles gasped as Arthur and Kennedy stepped before him, the Slayer immediately setting to work pulling his yoke off, "I trust you are well?"

Giles forced a smile and opened his mouth to reassure England's greatest ever hero. And then the world tilted and he fell forwards, legs suddenly weak.

* * *

Angel growled as he looked down into the makeshift quarry. The entire work area was bathed in torch-light, allowing the Jaffa to mercilessly work their slaves through the night, whips lashing at the unfortunate humans. Angel's eyes narrowed as he noticed something. "Why are they using pickaxes and spades? Surely the Goa'uld have more advanced tools?"

"They do," Bra'tac explained in a hiss. "But when they are not in a hurry, they like to work their slaves with primitive tools to make it harder for them."

"Nice," Angel replied, anger growing. He glanced at Riley. "So what does our military genius think?"

The Special Forces soldier tore his gaze away from the camp. "I think we should make a detour around the camp, but I guess I'm out-voted. I see us making a three-pronged attack. Bra'tac takes those with enhanced night-vision – Angel, Connor, and Blade through as prisoners at 2200 hours. At 2215, Gwen, accompanied by Illyria, blows the generator to the north of the camp." Riley pointed for emphasis. "The moment the lights go out, Sam and I will go down to the east wire-mesh fence, plant a claymore and back off. At 2230, I'll set it off. Sam and I will provide covering fire as you take out as many as Jaffa as possible in the confusion."

"Whatever the military's paying you it's too much," Angel incredulously commented.

"Look," Riley glowered at him. "I don't think this is a smart idea to start with. So if you're not happy with my plan, I'd be just as happy to call everything off and walk away while we still can."

"No," Angel shook his head, "the plan's fine."

* * *

"Were you and my mom serious?" Jack started at the husky voice behind him, momentarily shocked that its owner would speak to him. Shoving aside his amazed excitement, he turned to face the brunette, suspicion gleaming in her chocolate-brown orbs. Jack stared at the young woman, mind whirling as he struggled to decide how to answer the thorny question. "Well?" Hand on her hip, Faith tapped her foot impatiently. "Ya wanna talk or what?"

"I want to talk," Jack slowly replied. God, what he wouldn't do for Daniel's way with the words. Or Teal'c's extra-terrestrial calmness. "But maybe not about that. Maybe you could tell me about being a Slayer-."

"I tried, forget it." Head shaking, the supernatural warrior started to turn away. Jack grabbed her arm. Faith's eyes snapped back to him, colder than death. "Two men can get a hold of me without my say so. And you ain't Angel or Xan."

"Sorry." Jack let go as if scalded. "It was the summer of '81. Your mother was a dancer at a club," Faith groaned, "and she was the most beautiful girl in the place. She had your eyes, hair, and smile," well what he'd seen of it when she was talking to her friends and her Watcher. "We spent a weekend together."

"And that's it?" Faith shook her head, eyes disbelieving. "Jesus, I'd figured it wasn't 'Gone With The Wind', but this?"

"Faith-."

"If you'd know about me, would it have made a difference?" Faith interrupted.

"Of course it would." Jack searched desperately for a change of subject. "You have a brother."

"Oh yeah?" For the first time, some of the anger left the raven-haired beauty's tone and eyes. "Do you know where he is now?"

Jack's stomach tightened, both with the memory, and the certain fore-knowledge of his daughter's reaction. "Charlie shot himself with my gun in '94," he finally admitted.

"Jesus," Faith's look of disgust made him feel three inches tall. "I really got the parental prize. One parent who made me wanna kill myself and one parent who actually finishes the job. Fuck!" the Slayer threw her hands up. "I was right the first time!"

Jack opened his mouth only to close it as the Slayer stormed off. "Damn it, great strategic planning, Jack. Next stop the UN."

* * *

"Ooooooh," Giles groaned as he awoke, forcing his incredibly heavy lids to open.

"You're alright!"

Giles smiled at the Slayer's enthused cry. "Alright would be over-stating it." In truth he felt like he'd been through the proverbial grinder. Looking around, he saw they were in a mini-bus driven by Frank Martin, the sun just rising over the horizon. "And how are you? You took quite a beating as I remember."

Kennedy's answering smile was strained. "I hurt some," the young woman admitted. "But Slayer healing is helping."

"Ah," Giles nodded. Slayer healing frequently amazed him with both its speed and capacity to keep on going no matter what. "Well thank you very much for coming to my rescue."

"Willow would have wanted me to." Kennedy's smile became more genuine. "I'm your protector right?"

"Yes," Giles smiled. "Indeed you are. And indeed she would." When he compared Kennedy to Tara, she was abrasive, out-spoken, and impatient. But the last few days had revealed another side to the brunette beauty – a fierce loyalty and indomitable spirit that had to be admired. "She'd be very proud." Seeing the tears brimming in the girl's eyes at his words, he instantly took her in his arms. "Hush now," he whispered. "It'll be alright." After a second the Slayer pulled away, a look of mortification on her face. "What's the plan now?" he quickly asked, deciding a change of subject was definitely in order.

"Bond," the Slayer wiped at her eyes as she spoke, disdain dripping from the young woman's voice. Giles guessed the well-known womanising secret agent had tried and failed to work his charm on the beautiful Slayer. "Says we're going to Torchwood."

"Ah, yes," Giles nodded. He recalled Bond telling him about Torchwood. Situated in Cardiff, it was Britain's base for the research into alien technology. "And how long until we get there?"

"Four hours given the current conditions," the brunette replied.

"In that case," Giles closed his suddenly heavy again eyes and yawned. "I'm rather tired. I think I'll take another nap."

* * *

"Here's the thing," Connor whispered as Bra'tac herded him, Connor, and Blade towards the shadow-shrouded camp, "that piece of metal on your forehead, isn't it some sort of identification? Won't they be able to tell you're not supposed to be here?"

"A wise enquiry," Bra'tac complimented his son. "And normally with a Goa'uld you would be correct. However The Quartet have Jaffas from a great number of Goa'uld under their control. I will be unnoticed. Unless…."

"Unless what?" Blade growled.

"Unless my brand is recognised as belonging to a former First Prime of Apophis," Bra'tac replied. "Teal'c and I have gained some notoriety as traitors to the false gods."

"Gee," Connor muttered, "and I thought dad was pessimistic."

Angel glared at his son. "Shut up, Connor." Angel himself fell silent as they reached the gates. He listened as Bra'tac talked to the trio of Jaffa on the gate in their unintelligible language.

Finally the rebel Jaffa turned back to them, his mutter too low for any ears but their enhanced ones to pick up. "They are convinced," Bra'tac reported even as the wire-mesh gates swung open.

"So this is where we get to be treated like slaves," Connor muttered. " This is the part of the plan I so loved."

Angel snorted as they passed through the gates. "After crushes on Cordelia and Faith, I'd have thought you'd liked it."

"Silence scum!" A Jaffa's whip slashed against his back. "Pick up your ax and work!"

Angel dropped his head so the alien wouldn't see his eyes flicker yellow. When the time came, he'd die first.

A seeming eternity later and the camp was suddenly plunged into darkness. Angel hid a malicious smirk at the Jaffas' consternation. A few seconds later and the sky lit up and the ground shuddered underfoot as the far fence was blown apart.

Ears still ringing to the concussive blast, Angel blurred into action. Snatching hold of the head of a Jaffa foolish enough to turn his back to him, he twisted, snapping the alien's neck. Snatching up the falling alien's staff, he shot off a succession of energy blasts. Each shot hit its target, putting a Jaffa down on his back.

The ringing in his ears diminishing, he heard the sound of an unarmed Jaffa charging him from his left and another from behind. Angel shifted his staff into an underarm position and shot the alien behind while kicking the one to his left in the throat.

Another leapt at him, knife swinging. He caught the alien's wrist inches from his neck. "Nice try," he smiled at the Jaffa's shock. "Not good enough." He drove a palm into the alien's face, driving his nose bone into his brain. Dropping the corpse, he vamped out as he noticed a Jaffa stood by a laser canon shooting at the shrieking slaves as they raced towards the hole in the fence.

Leaping into the air, he easily cleared the rushing masses to land beside the Jaffa butcher. The alien didn't even have time to register his presence before Angel had slammed the knife he'd taken off his would-be assailant through his eye.

And then it was over. The camp's Jaffa lay crumpled on the sandy ground, lifeless eyes staring up at the stars from which they came.

But far from all the humans had escaped. Some lay in the sand, some worked to death, but others casualties of the firefight. Bile rising in his throat, Angel looked around the carnage, burning it into his mind so he'd never forget what they were fighting, before turning to the others. "Let's go."

* * *

"I saw you talking to your -, General O'Neill this morning," Xander commented as she huddled into her newly-claimed man's side at the end of the day.

Faith stiffened. "Figured I had to try."

"And?" Xander prompted.

"And it ain't gonna work. My mom was just some easy lay he picked up for a weekend furlong." Faith shook her head. "I ain't interested in getting to know him."

"I'm sorry," Xander wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "But when you was a kid didn't you wish you had a dad?"

"Yeah," Faith admitted. "But in case you ain't got the newsletter, I ain't a kid no more, I'm all woman-sized."

"Oh," Xander grinned. "I'd noticed."

Faith chuckled before rolling over and kissing Xander on the cheek. "'Sides, I got everything I need here."

* * *

General Hammond sighed as he finished listening to O'Neill's report. Dr. Rodney McKay had created a compression formula that allowed for a sender to compress five minutes of audio into a five second transmission. All three of his teams were heading back with their missions accomplished, Captain Finn's team even managing to recruit the famed vampire hunter Blade. Which was all to the good, but Jack's report lacked his usual annoying yet also engaging irreverence. Instead he'd sounded distracted, dispirited. Clearly things were not going well with Jack's newly discovered daughter. But then given his General's character and the profile the Initiative had belatedly supplied on the Slayer, someone's head was going to roll for keeping this away from Jack, he hardly expected the meeting to be something out of The Waltons.

George chuckled and shook his head. Saving the world or re-uniting families, he didn't know which was the most difficult.


	9. Chapter 9

**FIC: Alien End-Game (9/?) **

****

M looked up as her office door crashed open. Her mouth opened in a rebuke but she was pre-empted by her aide, a short but stocky former RSM charging in. "Sorry ma'am, but you said you wanted to know when they arrived."

M struggled to prevent her excitement from showing. Realising she'd half-risen from her seat, she sank back down and nodded. "And their ETA?"

"They passed our quarter-hour reconnaissance post some five minutes ago."

"Excellent," M stood. "Then I had better prepare to greet our guests." Walking out of her office, she stared down the corridors of the converted mansion twenty or so miles west of Cardiff. Reaching the four-storied mansion's stepped entrance, she watched as the remote-controlled gates opened, and a convoy of three battered mini-buses pulled into the walled courtyard. A tremor ran through her when the buses began disembark and a bearded, chain-mailed powerhouse with an aura of majesty that clearly identified him as the once and future king stepped down from the second bus. Fighting the urge to curtsey, she stepped forward. "Greetings," her voice faltered then steadied. "Greetings sire."

"Greetings mi'lady," the monarch inclined his head slightly. "We have an injured amongst our number," the king looked over his shoulder to where a tiny brunette was helping a ravaged-looking man down the bus' three steps. "I trust you have a healer here?"

"Yes, of course," M looked towards her aide. " Barclay, help the young lady-."

"We're fine!" the young woman snapped, eyes flashing indignantly.

Arthur chuckled. "Fair Kennedy is rather protective of sage Rupert." The king looked towards the mansion. "And what function does this house perform?"

Gathering her thoughts, M led her guests through the ornate door. "This building is the headquarters of Torchwood, an organisation set up to combat supernatural and other-worldly threats to Britain and the world by Queen Victoria in 1879, after a meeting with a being that she considered supernatural but we later confirmed is alien called the Doctor."

M was shocked when Arthur threw his head back and let out a booming laugh. "The Doctor? That is a name I have not heard in a long, long, long time."

* * *

"What the hell!" Faith yelled as the lorry suddenly swerved off the road, crashing to a halt, throwing Xand and Harriet to the floor. Dana and Rona grabbed Harriet, pulling her back to her seat, while she did the same for the former Sunnydaler.

The moment Harris was back in his seat, Faith was charging out of the back of the parked truck to find out what was happening. Her mouth dried when she saw two ships flying down at them, energy blasts shooting out of their wings. She gaped when she saw O'Neill and Teal'c taking up flanking positions knelt behind the truck. "Jesus," Faith muttered to Daniel stood beside her at the rear. "We should be running, not trying to shoot them down."

"We're too big a target," the archaeologist replied, eyes fixed on the approaching space ships, "they'd never miss."

"They'd never miss-." Faith gasped as the words' chilling implication hit home. "Shit!" Turning back to the truck, she let out a yell. "Everyone out now!"

Rona was first to hit the ground, Xander a thankful second, and the rest following seconds after. Faith kept her eyes fixed on the incoming spacecraft even as she ushered the others into the doubtful cover offered by a few bushes beside the roadside.

A blast crashed into the truck. The vehicle exploded into a fireball, the concussive force flinging her into the air. Landing face-up with a painful grunt, she looked up to see O'Neill and Teal'c shooting blast after blast into the two crafts. One of the ships exploded into fire, the other plummeted to the earth, smoke billowing from it. The ground shuddered again as flames briefly filled the horizon.

Faith's eyes widened. She had to grudgingly admit she was impressed. Pops could shoot and staying in the line of fire had taken a serious pair. Shoving aside such treasonous feelings she sprang to her feet, strode over to Xander, and helped him up before shooting her father a scornful glance. "Nice shooting, shame you couldn't do it ten seconds earlier. Ya know when we still had a vehicle. Just how are we supposed to travel the klicks to Colorado? Tried hitching once, really don't like the barter system that goes with it."

O'Neill shot her a wounded look. Before the general had chance to respond, Xander was between them. "This is America, land of the car. We'll pick up something easy at the next town." Xander shot an enquiring glance around.

"Which is fourteen k to the west," Daniel helpfully supplied.

"Fourteen K? Okay," Xander joined her in glaring at Jack. "Now I hate you too."

Faith nodded approvingly. Finally Xander was getting with the program.

* * *

"You know the Doctor?" M queried as she led her guests into the underground bunker beneath the house, down the thirty steps, through the secret wall that appeared to be just another side to the extensive wine cellar, and finally down a long, light-bulb illuminated passageway, its floor thick with only recently disturbed dust. Stopping at a grey vault door complete with overhead watching CCTV camera, she punched in a four digit code. A steel door slid aside, leaving her with a handprint recognition panel. She provided the necessary identification and then stepped back, waiting for the door to swing outwards before leading the group into the vast conference room beyond.

"Know the Doctor?" Arthur's amused boom filled the room. "No-one truly knows that one, but I have made his acquaintance. He and Merlin were friends. He was the only man Merlin regarded as his intellectual superior. And," the legendary monarch scowled, "it was after fair Gwen's death that the Doctor persuaded Merlin to sacrifice his own life force to put us all to rest until such time as our nation needed us as it had never needed us before."

"The Doctor had you all put into suspended animation?" M asked.

"I am unfamiliar with the term," the king responded. "But the Doctor told Merlin that one day an enemy would come at a time when he was in another place, dealing with another threat and could not be here to defend earth, and that our fair land would have fallen into such a state of decay that it would need the Round Table to save it and bring it to prominence again."

M stared at the king, a cold finger sliding up her back at the hidden meaning she thought she glimpsed in his words. "Y….you intend to rule Britain again?"

"Aye," the king's features stiffened to stone. "One of the Slayers showed me how to use one of your computers. Our country is ruled by a craven misfit unfit to run a rude tavern much less our mighty nation. Criminals, foreigners, and those who would destroy our history and traditions are more important to this ingrate than those who love our proud land. Well no more! After these godforsaken aliens are defeated, no more!"

* * *

"General Hammond," Hammond looked up when a Master-Sergeant hurried into his office. He was more relieved than he cared to admit when his junior saluted. At least military discipline was holding. So far. "General O'Neill and his team had arrived."

"Excellent," Hammond rose, suddenly old bones creaking. "Please, lead the way."

As they walked through the underground bunker, a relic from the Cold War, Hammond ruminated on what was to happen next. Their objective of taking down the snakehead prison ship was tricky to say the least. The ship was probably the best guarded of all the potential targets outside of the Quartet's own mother-ships. But freeing the world's heroes would give them a chance - which was more than they had right now.

"Vegas odds," he muttered. Unfortunately the house was stacked against them, and the house usually won. Coming to a halt by a grey elevator door, he waited more or less patiently for it to open, breaking into a smile when it slid open. "Jack," he smiled at the grey-haired man who was first to step out of the elevator, "it's good to see you made it back in one piece."

His general managed a weary, painful smile. "Dorothy was never as glad to see Kansas as I am to see you right now sir."

"Miss Lehane," he nodded towards the young woman he recognised as Jack's illegitimate daughter. Her photograph didn't do her justice; she really was an astonishingly beautiful young woman. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

"Yeah," the curvy Slayer sniffed dismissively while eyeing him with a cynicism that marked her as entirely too old for her years. "I bet it's in your top ten moments of all time. When's Fang getting here, only the quicker we kick the aliens' asses off earth, the sooner I don't have to see his," Jack almost flinched at the scorching look the brunette shot his way, "face again."

Hammond was forced to use all his diplomatic skills to keep his calm in the face of the young woman's rudeness. "Hunt and Bourne will be returning here with Witchblade and Hellboy in 36 hours. Finn," the Slayer groaned, hardly surprising given her troubled past with the soldier, "will be returning with Angel's tea, and the added bonus of the vampire hunter, Blade, in 48 hours."

"Sooner the better," grunted the Slayer.

* * *

Hammond looked up at the knock on his door. "Come in." He smiled sympathetically at the man who entered. "Jack, take a seat."

"Thank you sir."

He stared at his junior for a minute before speaking. "Your daughter seems a formidable young lady."

"She's all that." His friend smiled weakly. "I'd be proud of her. If I had anything to do with her."

"General," his heart went out to O'Neill at the pain in his second-in-command's eyes. "I know you, and you'd never knowingly desert a child. You've proven your loyalty too many times for me to ever think you would. Just give her time."

O'Neill smiled crookedly, but there was no real amusement in the facial expression. "Want to give me an idea how long? Is there a traditional length of time I have to wait for forgiveness?"

Hammond stared back at his subordinate. There was some questions there was just no answer for.


	10. Chapter 10

**FIC: Alien End-Game (10/?) **

****

Faith lay in her man's arms, content to finally be with a man she didn't have to bang to keep his interest. She purred as Xander began stroking her hair, wrapping her own arm around the Sunnydaler's waist.

They were in their assigned quarters, Faith having stubbornly insisted on a shared room. Upon entering the room she'd intended on ripping X's clothes off and riding him like a show pony like she'd wanted to for the past few months. Instead she'd found herself wrapped in her new boyfriend's arms.

And loving every second.

Faith groaned at the bleakly insistent knock at the door. In the past two days they'd only left the room when they were hungry, partially because she wanted to avoid her mom's ex, but also because she wanted to spend time with Xan. "Yo!" she called out. "Who is it?"

"Me."

Faith beamed as she recognised the deep voice. Xander replied to it with a groan. "Angel" Leaping up, she wrapped a blanket around herself before hurrying to the door and flinging it open, grinning up at the tall, pale man stood there. "Good to see ya! Come in!"

The vampire gave her one of his trademark half-smiles before speaking. "Hello Faith, good to see you too." The demon strode into the room. "Xander."

Her boy-friend stared stonily at the ensoulled vampire as he dragged his jeans on. "Deadboy."

Faith shot Xander a warning glance. She wanted them to get on. With all the other complicated shit going on, she really didn't need the two of them bitching at one another.

After a second Angel broke the duo's staring competition to look towards her. "Faith, there's some stuff Xander and I need to talk out. Can we have some privacy?"

Faith opened her mouth to protest. "It's okay, Faith," Xander interrupted.

Faith looked towards Xander and shrugged. "Five by five. She grinned to hide her concern. "The pair of you turn around while I dress, no peeking now."

* * *

Xander eventually broke the silence that followed Faith's exit. "Look, if you're going to give me the big brother speech don't bother. I wasn't scared outside Buffy's hospital room and I'm not scared now."

Angel smirked. "That's half-true. You're not scared now, but you were terrified back then. Angelus could hear your heart almost pounding out of your chest."

"Okay," Xander stared at the demon stood leaning against the wall opposite with his arms crossed. "You've got me. So why didn't you give me a quick neck-snap?"

"True courage isn't doing something that others might consider brave when you're not frightened. True courage is being frightened but doing something anyway. Angelus was impressed and thought you had potential as a childe." Xander shuddered. Now he was seriously creeped. "Fortunately for me, it never happened."

"Lucky for you?" Xander's eye bulged. "What about me? Stuck forever reading Anne Rice and sleeping in coffins?"

"Stereotypes?" Angel threw up his hands. "I hate stereotypes! And what about me? An eternity with you tagging behind like a puppy dog? I didn't need another Spike!" Angel shuddered.

Xander opened his mouth to retort then shook his head, it wasn't worth it. "So give me the talk, I'll pretend to be scared, and then you can leave and we'll both be happy."

Angel's eyes flickered with irritation before quickly re-assuming their usual unreadability. "I'm not here to give you a talk. You never listen anyway, and if you're stupid enough to repeat the mistake you made with Cordelia, Faith's more than capable of ripping your balls off. No," the demon paused. "Riley told me his unit had a team doing surveillance on Buffy," Xander felt a dead weight settle on his chest, foreboding crushing him, "and Spike. They haven't reported in since we were invaded."

"Oh." Xander was surprised how little impact the vampire's words had. He was sure that once such news would have left him feeling like he'd had a limb amputated. Now all he felt was a vague sense of loss, like he'd heard about the death of a barely-remembered school friend. Had all the disappointments and arguments really created that much distance? "Well thanks for telling me."

Angel raised an eyebrow at his non-reaction. "You don't seem shocked."

Xander shrugged. "We've barely spoken since Sunnydale fell. I went to see her in October '03. When I found out about the Immortal, we argued, and I walked out. To be honest I finally realised she was never the person I idolised. Then," Xander shook his head, "she confirmed it by taking up with Spi-, oh god." Xander paled. "Dawn's with her. She'll be dead too. Just like Willow."

" Willow's dead?" Angel queried. "How can you be sure?"

" Willow's," Xander attempted but failed to smile, "got enough power for us to be connected telepathically. I….I can't reach her anymore."

"Oh." Angel paused, his expression clearly stunned. "I'm sorry." The vampire turned to go."

"Angel," the vampire turned back to him. "Thanks for telling me about Buffy."

The demon shrugged. "You deserved to know."

* * *

Faith hid a smirk as she strutted into the packed recreation room. Hips swinging provocatively, she basked in the stares of the off-duty troops loitering in the room. Yeah, she still had it, which was good to know. She might have a prime piece of meat at home, but there was nothing wrong in a little window shopping.

Striding across the room she sat at one of the few unoccupied tables, feet perched on the table even as she leaned over and leafed through the magazines strewn upon it. Finding a well-thumbed motor bike magazine, she smirked and sat back, idly flicking through the pages as she wondered why Angel had wanted to speak to Xander.

"Good afternoon young lady," Faith groaned inwardly at her 'pop's' superior's voice. "Do you mind if I sit down?"

Faith stared stonily at the bald general. "It's your base," she replied with all the warmth of an iceberg.

The military man's eyes narrowed slightly. "Thank you." Once he'd sat, the Texan stared at her.

"Look, I know I'm the bomb," Faith said after a minute. "But this staring a hole through me gets old real fast."

The general chuckled humourlessly. "You got Jack's mouth, that's for sure."

Faith glared at the middle-aged man. "Let me make this real simple for you, Custer. I haven't got or want anything of O'Neill's. Ya dig?"

The military officer appeared annoyingly unperturbed by her anger. But then when you faced the daily threat of alien conquest, Faith guessed you had to have a pretty solid set of stones. "You might not want anything of Jack's, but it seems to me you have plenty of his qualities, young lady – his sense of humour, outspoken temper, loyalty, and never say die attitude."

"I didn't get shit from my pop," Faith retorted, voice raising. "If I've got a 'tude it's 'cause I had to fight every damn day of my life or get crushed. Nothing to do with bullshit genetics." Feeling rage threatening to overwhelm her, Faith took a calming breath. "When I was a kid, when I wanted and needed a pop like nothing on earth, he wasn't there. And now," Faith snorted, "now I should just let him into my life 'cause HE wants it." Faith shook her head. "NOT A CHANCE IN HELL."

The general blanched in the face of her anger but to his credit recovered quickly. "Young lady, Jack is an honourable man and I assure you if he'd-."

Suddenly Faith couldn't take it anymore. "Assure fresh air, 'cause I don't give a fuck," she exclaimed. Leaping to her feet, she rushed out of the suddenly quietened room.

Her lips twisted in a scowl, Faith stalked down the corridor, the look in her eyes ensuring that anyone who crossed her path skirted around her. Faith stopped as she heard the sound of sobbing coming through one of the room's doors. Opening the door, she saw Dana sat in a ball on her bed, rocking from side to side. "Underground, underground, underground."

Oh shit, Faith winced. She remembered that Dana had spent several months being tortured in a basement, leaving her with a terror of the underground. Kicking the door shut behind her, she rushed over and knelt beside the younger girl. Knowing that unlike herself, Dana craved physical intimacy, she threw her arms around the younger Slayer's shoulders. "Hey, hey, hey." Faith kissed her fellow brunette on her forehead. "I ain't gonna let nothing happen to you."

"But you weren't here!" Dana wailed, tears shining in her luminous eyes. "I thought he'd got you too!"

Guilt hit Faith like a runaway train. She'd been so immersed with her new relationship with Xan and her problems with O'Neill, she'd forgotten about Dana. "I'm here now," Faith wiped the girl's eyes clean with a gentleness that would have shocked any one of her cellmates or street running buddies. "How about me and you get something to eat?"

* * *

General Hammond looked around the half-full briefing room, feeling the tension thick in the air. His breath caught as he looked around, the certain knowledge that at least some of the audience would not return from this mission almost choking him. Forcing the terrible conviction down deep, he spoke. "Thank you all for coming here. On the first page of your briefing packs you have your target, the alien prison ship. As you know, this prison doesn't hold normal humans; rather it houses super-humans of one description or another. Once these prisoners are rescued, it is hoped we can resist more effectively." He looked down at his notes before continuing. "The ship is exceptionally well-guarded, the only route to it is through a landing pad just outside Fort Worth. Only ships from this pad are equipped with a secret identifying beacon that allows them access to the target. But this pad is in turn also well-guarded."

"A heavily guarded Jaffa compound, sounds familiar," Jack commented. "What's the plan, sir?"

"Because large groups are easily picked up by the Jaffa, we'll travel to the target in three separate groups. Upon reaching the target we'll strike on Wednesday at 300 hours. I will lead an attack on the north defences consisting of myself, SG-s 4,5,9, and 14 with assistance from Hunt, Bourne, Blade, Spawn, and Illyria. Simultaneously General O'Neill will lead SGs 2, 6, 10, and 17 with the assistance of Angel, Gwen, Hellboy, and Dana on the west side. At the same time, Colonel Carter will lead an incursion force of herself, Master Bra'tac, Faith, Rona, Connor, Xander, Dr. Jackson, and Teal'c. They will steal a Death Glider and dock with the Ha'tak, seize the main control room, and open the prison pods, commander the ship with aid of the freed prisoners, and land it before it's shot down."

"This sounds like a long shot," Angel broke the strained silence that followed his briefing.

"Unfortunately we don't have much option," Hammond admitted. "But it does have the advantage of surprise."

"Yeah," Faith snorted. "Can't say I'm surprised. On account the snake-heads probably realise you'd have to be nuts to try it."

Hammond didn't answer. Partially because he guessed there wasn't any point arguing with his second's stubborn daughter. But mostly because he suspected she was right.


	11. Chapter 11

**FIC: Alien End-Game (11/?) **

****

"Giles! Giles!"

The Watcher looked up as she burst into his quarters. "Yes thank you, Kennedy," the middle-aged man sniffed, "so sorry I didn't hear you knock. My hearing must be failing me in my dotage."

Kennedy grinned, unabashed by the rebuke. "At your age you've got to accept these things. Besides so many of the Slayers drool over you, I had to take the chance, see if I could catch you in your smalls and find out what the fuss is." Her grin widened at the Englishman's out-raged expression. Noticing the cell that the Englishman held in his hand, she nodded towards it, face sobering. "Any luck?"

The Watcher shook his head and sighed, shoulders rounding in defeat. "Nothing, I'm afraid. Not even a signal."

"Oh, sorry." Kennedy knew that Giles had been continuously trying to get into contact with Buffy and Xander since the aliens' attack. While she couldn't care less about Buffy, she idolised Xander both for saving her life and their shared love of Willow. And even if she couldn't stand Buffy, she hated the pain and uncertainty her fate caused Giles.

Anxious to change the subject, she moved onto the news that had brought her to the Council head's room. "You'll never guess what King Arthur has said now."

"Really?" the middle-aged man raised a caustic eyebrow. "I won't? In that case you better just come out and tell me."

"Sure," Kennedy was all too willing to oblige. "You know how Arthur went nuts when he checked out Britain's current affairs?"

"I have a vague recollection," Giles dryly replied.

"Well he's decided that once this is all over he's taking charge of Britain." Giles' jaw thudded to the floor. "And that's not all."

Kennedy spent a gleeful few minutes out-lining the bellicose monarch's plans and watching as the Watcher's face got paler and paler. "Looks like you're not going to be head Watcher for much longer."

"H….he can't, I…I can't," the flustered Englishman stuttered.

Kennedy laughed. "I can't wait until I see you try and tell him no."

Giles' bemused look turned to a glare. "Bloody Slayers, you all take far too much enjoyment in my misfortune."

Kennedy's smile broadened. "It's what we do."

* * *

"Ah Rupert! A word if you please!"

Giles halted and turned at the voice behind him. "Roger," he greeted.

"You're looking rather better than you did last time I saw you," Roger said as he fell in beside him. "I trust you're feeling better too?"

"Getting there," he replied. "One doesn't heal as well as I did a decade ago."

Roger chuckled. "The passing of the years does that to us all I'm afraid, old chap." The Watcher's lined face sobered. "Have you heard about Arthur's plan for the future?"

"Kennedy took great pleasure in informing me," Giles replied dryly. "Utter madness."

"Is it?"

Giles looked towards his companion, surprised by his response. "Bloody hell, Roger!" he exclaimed. "The man's eleven hundred years out of date!"

"He'll have us by his side," Roger pointed. "And the populace too I shouldn't wonder. Or are such values as honesty, compassion, justice, and honour so out of date?"

"No, of course not," he shook his head. If nothing else Arthur was eminently preferable to the bunch of toadying cowards who'd so mismanaged his country for the past several decades. It seemed honourable politicians had died out with Churchill. "But have you heard what he wants me to do?" he shook his head.

He grunted when Roger buffeted him with a slap to his shoulder. "I can't think of anyone better, old boy."

Giles shook his head again. The entire bloody planet was barking.

* * *

Kenndy straightened when Giles entered the conference room and beckoned her newly-claimed Watcher over. "I've saved you a seat," she greeted.

Giles smiled at her as he sat down. "Thank you my dear."

"It's in my interest to look after you," Kennedy grinned impishly. "'Specially considering your newly elevated position. Not even Faith would mess with you now."

"Oh do belt up," Giles groaned. "And I seriously doubt anything would intimidate Miss Lehane."

Kennedy opened her mouth to reply. Only to close it when Arthur strode in. As always her first glance of the powerfully-built legend took her breath away through his commanding presence. "Well met friends and fellow patriots," boomed the king. "M," Arthur slightly inclined his head towards the matronly-looking intelligence officer, "has suggested a number of targets to attack. But I believe we have need of other allies before striking back."

"Other allies?" Frank Martin growled. "The whole country's devastated, how can we find other allies?"

Arthur smiled. "Why from the past."

"From the past!" Roger exclaimed. "But how?"

" England is a land steeped in legend," the king replied. "Legends that can be called up to come to England's aid in its direst hour."

The middle-aged man sat beside Kennedy licked his lips. "Which legends?"

"Ah sage Rupert," the once and future king chuckled. "I could have predicted that you'd ask that question. As to the answer," the monarch sobered. "You'll know soon enough."

* * *

Yorkshire

Roger stared around the bleak, rolling moors. He shivered as he tugged his overcoat around himself in a wholly unsuccessful attempt to keep out the blustery winds. Thoroughly discomforted, he turned towards their party's leader. "Could we please hurry this along? Some of us don't have your yout-," Roger paused and half-smiled as he realised just how ridiculous that sounded, "your hardy disposition."

Lancelot looked at him and smiled. "I apologise, I was lost in the mists of time, remembering a once fought battle." Roger stepped back at the knight of yore drew his sword, moonlight glittering off its steel. After staring at the sword for a second, the warrior thrust his broadsword deep into the ground. "With this sword you were slain, with this sword I call you back!"

The wind around them increased even more, its whistling painful in his ear and its force threatening to lift him off his feet and taking his breath away. Roger shivered when the moor went from cold to freezing in a nano-second.

What little breath he'd got left dissipated with a quintet of skeletons sprang out of the ground, standing on four legs. Completely unnerved, Roger fell to his knees, uncomprehending eyes fixed on the skeletons as flesh formed around them, giving them a terrible form.

Each of the four beasts was the size of a pony. Their bristling with inhuman vitality bodies were covered entirely with midnight black fur. Blazing red eyes glared through the gusty mists and salvia dripped from their fangs even as the air seemed to reverberate to their growls.

"B….barghest." Eventually Roger managed to spit out the name of the mythical dog-beast.

"Just so," Lancelot agreed as he dragged his sword out of the ground. The knight turned his back on the snarling quintet. "Come Roger, these creatures will follow."

Roger gulped. "A….are they safe?"

Lancelot chuckled. "Safe no, but it was I who killed them. These mangy curs know their master."

* * *

The Welsh Valleys

Robson looked around the mist-shrouded valley, breath catching. Where once sprawling woods had stood there was now huge craters, ash still smouldering up from them. Robson tore his eyes and looked towards the leader of the knights accompanying him. "Why are we here?"

"You know of Bran the Blessed?" Galahad replied.

"The first king of Wales?" Robson nodded, his puzzlement growing. "His head was buried in London beneath where the White Tower stands or did stand until it was bombed. As I remember it, it was buried there to keep England safe from invasion, but Arthur dug it up, saying that Britain only needed his strength to keep it safe."

"Is that what the legends say?" Galahad chuckled. "A lie wrapped up in a truth."

"Then what happened? If I might ask?"

It was Tristam who answered. "King Arthur dug up the head, but he didn't do it out of arrogance. He did it so the body and the head could be re-untied, so when Britain needed him, Bran could rise. He and the six warriors who survived their war with Ireland are here."

"Where?" Robson looked around.

"Here," Galahad replied.

Robson gasped and dropped to one knee when seven powerfully built figures stepped out of the fog. All were dark-eyed and savage-faced, dressed entirely in animal furs, and wielding either broadswords or double-bladed axes.

The tallest of the men spoke, his voice a low rumble. "Is Britain in peril?"

"A greater peril than she has ever faced before," Galahad answered.

"Then," Bran's eyes were cold enough to chill stone, "we shall have to make her invaders rue their foolishness."

* * *

Cornwall

Lara took in a mouthful of the salty air as she looked around. Anger built inside of her as she saw the devastation the alien invaders had wrecked on one of England's most beautiful areas. "They have to pay," she muttered as she hurriedly pulled her gaze away from the destruction. She turned to the thick-limbed, bearded man stood beside her, his grey-flint eyes likewise surveying the horror. "Why are we here Sir. Gawain?"

The knight looked towards her. "You are a woman of learning, Lady Croft. You have heard of Corin Giant-Slayer?"

Lara gasped. "The first Cornish king?"

"Aye," Gawain nodded before speaking up, his voice deep and commanding. "In the name of Pendragon, I demand you return to defend your country."

"You demand?" Lara gasped when a balding man seemed to materialise out of nowhere in front of them. He was tall and barrel-chested, a jagged scar running down the left side of his face, his brown eyes imperious. "And who are you to demand anything of Corin?"

Lara hastily joined the knights on one knee. "I am Sir Gawain, a knight of Arthur Pendragon and servant of Britain. We have need of our heroes. Will you serve your country again?"

* * *

Ireland

"If I might ask," Bond shuddered as he looked around the bleak moors. They were intimidating and yet strangely comforting, their beauty as yet untouched by the world-wide destruction going on around them. "Why are we here?"

Sir Percivale turned to him, the slender knight's face strangely superior. "You have heard the legend of Finn MaCool?"

" Ireland's greatest hero?" Bond smiled. "I have read the occasional book."

"A warrior to even match that of my liege lord and Sir Lancelot," Sir Percivale closed his eyes and thrust his blade into the muddy grass between his feet. "Once you fought for this fair isle, protected it from its enemies. But will death hold you when the nation you protected is faced by its gravest ever threat? Or you will return as legend foretold?"

"Ach laddie, you talk on a bit don't ya? How about we get with the fighting? It's been too bloody long since I had a good scrap!"

Bond swung to face the man who'd appeared behind them. The man was of only medium height, but even under his outfit of animal hides and bearskin cloak, Bond could see the man had a weight-lifter's physique – hulking shoulders, barrel-chest, and tree trunk like limbs. His hair and beard were fire red and the eyes that were set deep into his craggy features sparkled like emeralds. "Finn MacCool," he croaked, rapidly joining his escort on their knees.

"Ach, lads, let's not be standing on ceremony, warriors don't bend their knee to their allies." The legend's eyes turned to stone. "How about you tell me about this threat fair Ireland faces?"

* * *

Dartmoor

Giles resisted the urge to shiver as made his way through the overcast wood, haunting shadows cast everywhere, the wind bending tall trees to its imperious will. As he'd spent close to a decade patrolling graveyards he guessed it was something supernatural prompting his uncontrollable urge to turn tail and run screaming. Which made him even more grateful for the beautiful young woman beside him.

Suddenly their party's leader halted beside a looming oak. "Here is far enough," Arthur announced. The king's sword flashed as he drew it. Then it was arcing through the air and slicing improbably through the tree's thick trunk as if it was paper. The moment the felled tree thudded to the ground, the legend spoke. "As easily as this wood broke, so you broke your oaths. And so you cursed yourself to an eternity in purgatory. But now you have a chance for redemption. Will you take it?" The king's challenge rang out, even over the crashing wind. "Will you take it?"

"Oh god!" Giles looked towards a suddenly ashen-faced Kennedy, the diminutive Slayer's arms wrapped around herself as she trembled uncontrollably. "Can't you feel it?"

"Feel-." Giles' legs gave way beneath him as a sudden chill engulfed him, curdling his stomach and slowing his heart. His body now drenched in sweat, he looked wildly around, conscious of a growing rumble in the air.

The trees ahead parted like the Red Sea before Moses, a horde of horse-riding warriors galloping into view. Giles' breath caught as he recognised the riders from their style of dress. Tanned crusaders, pelt-wearing picts, horn-helmed Vikings, armoured knights, and Normans, Saxons, and Romano-Britons too. But it was the lead rider who really took his breath away.

He was over seven feet tall, the skin covering his fantastically muscled body entirely made of chain mail, but it was his head that caused Giles' soul to scream. The creature had a stag's head complete with antlers piercing the sky, but his mouth was crammed with wolfish, drooling teeth and his blood-red eyes burnt with a frightening malice. "You dare summons the Wild Hunt?" the thing growled.

Arthur threw his head back and roared with laughter. "Do not seek to frighten me, Herne!" Giles heart shrivelled as his terrible suspicions were confirmed. "It is many centuries, but I am sure you recall how our last meeting ended, and the bargain we made? Do you wish to break your word again?"

The man-beast's head fell forward onto his wide chest. "No, never again."

"Then you will ride with us and with our victory ensure your release and eternal rest." The king turned back to them. "Our business here is concluded. Time for London."

After a second, Giles realised that Kennedy had eased him to his feet. "Thank you my dear," he nodded at the still ashen-faced warrior before turning to the king and whispering. "Who are they? The Wild Hunt obviously, but who are they?"

"Oath-breakers, cowards, traitors, and liars one and all," Arthur's voice dripped with contempt. "Doomed to ride with the Wild Hunt until such time as they redeem themselves."

"And Herne?" Kennedy whispered.

"No one knows his story except Herne himself," the king replied. "But you see the pouch fastened to his waist?" Giles nodded. "I believe it carries 30 silver pieces."

"Judas," Giles felt his legs almost buckle under him. "But you've met Herne before?"

"Aye, but it was a dark and dreadful meeting and I will not talk of it." The king shook his head, face growing even grimmer. "Let us plan for our victory. Let us turn fair London into a charnel house for these god-cursed aliens."


	12. Chapter 12

**FIC: Alien End-Game (12/?) **

****

General Hammond pulled off his hat and wiped the sweat beading down his forehead off with the back of his hand. Everything was going according to plan; the SG teams were all in position, hopefully ready to devastate the first counter-attack. Blade and Angel had utilised their superhuman stealth to plant their explosives around the camp's border, and Illyria was standing ready to use her super-strength to throw grenades into the centre of the camp, three quarters of a mile in all.

But the problem as any soldier knew was that a plan only lasted as long as the first shot. Quelling his worries, Hammond whispered into his mouthpiece. "O'Neill, in position?"

"In position, sir," his second confirmed.

"Colonel Carter?" Hammond asked.

"In position, sir," came the reply.

"Then on my count. Three, two, one, go!"

All at once the air thundered to the explosions they'd set, the sky burning, and torn-apart Jaffa near the perimeter flying screaming into the air. " Illyria!"

The hell-goddess rose fearlessly at his bellow, her arm blurring as she flung grenade after grenade into the centre of the camp. The explosives wreaked yet more carnage on the unfortunate Jaffa, each explosion sending yet more of the invading army straight to hell.

And then the Jaffa counter-attack began. Soldier after solider charging them, many screaming devotions to gods who didn't care about them. The SG teams he'd set up began firing. Soon Hammond's ears were pounding to the gunfire after wave after wave Jaffa were put down.

As the battle progressed Hammond risked an anxious glance into the starry sky above. Things were going well at the moment, but once the Jaffa got their ships airborne it would be a different matter. They just had to buy Carter enough time before that happened.

* * *

The moment the camp was rocked by the explosions, Carter's party burst into action, Faith, Rona, and Connor leading the way.

Carter's breath caught as her boy-friend's daughter blurred into action. A Jaffa attempted to level his staff at her, but before she could shout a warning Faith was past him, hitting the unfortunate alien with a clothesline to the throat that sent him somersaulting through the air. Another lunged at the curvy brunette only to fly backwards when he caught a nose-shattering elbow, claret fountaining out. A third attempted a right hook that the Slayer glided beneath en-route to kicking him in the knee, grabbing his arm, and twisting it back until it snapped.

"I would very much like to spar with these Slayers," commented Bra'Tac.

Sam stared in disbelief at the elderly Jaffa. "Indeed," agreed Teal'c.

Swallowing comments about idiot male pride and Jaffa death wishes, and seeing the Jaffa nearest them had been taken out, Carter motioned the rest of the group forward. The Jaffa took up a flanking position around the humans in the party. The plan was to fool any one who happened to pass by that they were prisoners. Not that, Carter ducked instinctively when a near-by Death Glider exploded, flames spitting into the noisy sky, they were likely to be noticed.

"To the right," Teal'c ordered. "I see a Ha'tak with its ramp down."

"Oh goody!" Xander beamed. "My first spaceship!"

"You fuckin' nerd. You weren't this excited the first time you saw me naked!" Faith scoffed before issuing a warning. "And if you say a word about Susannah Ivannov I will kick your ass."

"Why would I need Susannah when I have my own raven-haired temptress?" Xander rejoined.

"If you're cheatin' on me I will rip your arms off and beat you to death with the wet ends," Faith warned.

Xander sighed. "I meant you, you idiot."

"Oh," Faith paused. "I guess that's okay."

"I'm getting space sick," complained Rona. "Oh wait, we haven't gotten into a ship yet. It must be all the sugar I'm swallowing."

"Wanna swallow my fist instead?" Faith growled.

"HALT!" Carter tensed as a pair of Nordic-looking Jaffas stepped out from behind the ship. "Where are you going?"

"Our masters have ordered these Tau'ri," Bra'Tac shoved Daniel for emphasis, "be transferred to The Dux."

"No," one of the guards shook his head. "Kal'Em has ordered all Ha'tak grounded until the battle ends."

"Unfortunately," two energy blasts rocketed into the aliens' chests, "we must insist." Teal'c looked at them. "We must hurry."

They sprinted up the steel ramp, Daniel hitting the close button as he climbed inside. "Oh boy, my first spaceship!" Xander enthused.

"Xander," Faith groaned, "will you -." Whoa!" The ship suddenly shuddered. "What the fuck was that?"

"An energy blast," Teal'c explained as he and Bra'Tac hurried into the cockpit. "It appears we were seen."

"Seems that way," Carter replied. "Teal'c, Bra'Tac, get us out of here. Daniel find a plan of The Dux on the computer, we need to know where the control room is. I'll send the signal to General Hammond."

* * *

"The eagle has flown, sir."

General Hammond exhaled in relief at Carter's earnest earpiece message. "Understood and good luck." He turned his mouthpiece onto O'Neill's frequency. "General, the eagle has flown. Time to return to the nest."

"Yes sir."

Hammond looked up, a cold ball forming in his stomach as he saw the Death Gliders taking off in possible pursuit. "Good luck, Colonel."

* * *

"Wow," Faith stared down at the receding planet as their ship powered upwards. Despite her habitual cynicism she couldn't help but feel awed by the sight beneath her.

"Wow about covers it," Xander whispered.

Faith smiled at the man stood beside her, eyes lingering on their hands clenched together. She was surprised to find she kinda liked holding hands. "Whoa!" Her instinctive balance allowed her to both keep her feet and save Xander from falling. "Yo!" She shot a furious glance over her shoulder and towards the cockpit. "What the fuck are you playing at!"

"Two Death-Gliders are pursuing us," Teal'c replied in his usual emotionless voice. "I would suggest you hold on."

"Hold on to wh-, shit!" Faith cursed as the ship suddenly dropped and flipped over, flinging them onto the ceiling and then back onto the floor when the ship did an impossibly tight loop the loop. Faith heard the sound of the ship's weapons firing.

Then the ship shuddered as if hit by something, did a sideways roll, and banked steeply before doing a somersault and firing again. "They have both been destroyed," Bra'Tac reported.

"Well no one celebrate just yet because I think your piloting broke my back." Xander complained as he struggled back to his feet at his new position by the pilot's seat. "Oh boy."

"That about does it," Faith whispered as she gazed at the approaching mothership. It hung in the air like a small city, menacing earth from above. Faith's breath caught as she registered the other ships of a similar or even greater size surrounding their destination. "How many of them are there?"

"Our sources indicate there are one hundred and seventeen in the fleet," Teal'c replied. "Although only forty-five are here at the moment."

"Only forty-five?" Faith arched an eyebrow. "Well that's alright then. For a second there I thought we were in trouble."

"Have you sent the identification beacon, Daniel Jackson?" Bra'Tac asked.

"I have," the anthropologist confirmed, "but what are you going to do if-."

" Jaffa kree!" A beyond arrogant voice crackled out of the intercom. "Why were our ships firing on you?"

"They ask that?" Daniel muttered.

Teal'c looked at Bra'Tac before speaking into the intercom. "They were not our fighters but fighters stolen by the Tau'Ri in an effort to prevent us from bringing our prisoners on board."

"And who are your prisoners?" the voice at the intercom's other end now sounded interested rather than hostile.

"Dr. Jackson and Colonel Carter of Sg-1, a mercenary working with SG-1, two grand-children of SG's leader General Hammond, and the youngest daughter of the Joint Chief of Staff," Bra'Tac replied.

"Valuable captives, you are to be commended. Come straight in. Command out."

Teal'c looked towards them. "You will have to be restrained for appearances' sake."

Faith shook her head and groaned. "Hey, no matter what anyone says, I am not into bondage."

"Well that's one of Xander's fantasies blown," Rona smirked.

Faith shook her head as they entered the mothership's gaping maw, a sense of impending doom pressing down on her. "Welcome to hell."

* * *

"Oh boy," Xander whispered as they entered the seemingly never-ending docking bay, row after row of ships already docked there. "Is there any chance we could just turn around and run?"

"That's my man," Faith muttered in his ear, her disturbingly erotic hot breath on his neck. "I'm all tied up and helpless and all you can think of is running."

"I laugh in the face of danger then whimper and beg it to go away," Xander replied as he stared around the steel grey hanger.

Faith laughed. "Don't ever change studly."

The ramp hissed open. After a second Xander joined the others in being herded forward by their Jaffa 'guards'. At the bottom they were met by a tall, droopy-moustached Jaffa with green eyes and a light tan. "Greetings Jaffa," the alien inclined his head, Bra'Tac and Teal'c responded likewise. "And which god do you serve?"

"We were formerly of Apophis and then Ba'al," Bra'Tac replied. "But now we serve Amon."

"A good and worthy master," the Jaffa approved. "And we will learn much about the Tau'ri from you," the alien sneered at the two SG-1 members."

"See if you'd just captured Jack he could give you an episode by episode synopsis of The Simpsons. But me," Daniel beamed, "I know nothing."

"We will see," the Jaffa darkly promised. Xander had to stop himself from leaping at the Jaffa when he stepped forward, grabbed Faith by the chin and forced her head back. "Prime breeding stock. One of the Quartet could well select her as worthy of being their mate."

"Oh that must be every girl's dream," Faith scoffed. "That and syphilis."

"Insolent bitch," the Jaffa back-handed Faith across the mouth.

This time Xander did start forward only for Connor to block his path, the younger man shooting him a warning glance. After an imperious glare at Faith, the Jaffa turned and beckoned a quartet of Jaffa out of the shadows. "They will assist you in escorting the prisoners to the processing centre."

A troubled look on his face, Bra'Tac spoke. "That is not necessary, they are restrained."

"They," the Jaffa leader pointed towards Carter and Jackson, "are of SG-1. They have escaped the gods' justice too often to take any risks."

"As you wish," Teal'c acceded.

Their party set off, the newly added quartet flanking them and Teal'c and Bra'Tac bringing up the rear. Xander felt beads of sweat form on his forehead, his heart thump, and nerves jingle as they strode the arched golden corridors, passing a seemingly endless string of Jaffas.

Finally they came to a deserted passageway. Xander flinched when the air filled with energy blasts, their four man escort crashing to the ground. He looked down at the smouldering bodies and then up at the two remaining Jaffas. "I will unfasten their restraints," said Bra'Tac. "Teal'c you hide the bodies in that storeroom across the passageway."

Sam was first to speak once their restraints were removed. "Daniel, how far are we from the control centre?"

"Give me a second," the archaeologist crouched by a control panel in the wall, fingers flicking over the input device. "Three levels up."

"Then," Bra'Tac passed Rona, Sam, Faith, and Connor the spare staff-weapons. "We had best hurry."

The elevator opened into an empty corridor with tunnels breaking off to the left, right, and ahead. "Wait here," ordered Teal'c. "Dr. Jackson, please come with me."

The Jaffa and the archaeologist strode off down the corridor straight ahead. "Where are they going?" Faith impatiently rasped.

"To scout the control room," Bra'Tac explained before shooting Faith a withering look. "A warrior must learn patience. Clearly your training is remiss."

Xander cringed when Faith's eyes flashed. This was going to be explosive. " Jaffa!" his head snapped to the right to see a trio of Jaffas heading towards them. "Where are you taking them?"

The two Slayers, Bra'Tac, and Connor turned and fired, the air ringing to their blasts. All three Jaffa hit the ground on their backs, lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling, but at the same time klaxons sounded, their blare cutting through the air. Bra' Tac scowled. "Stealth is no longer possible, hurry!"

The group set off, Xander huffing behind them, his usual feelings of inferiority rising in the wake of the Slayers' and Connor's effortless athleticism. "You lack your friends' physical attributes and yet they hold you in esteem. That speaks highly of your heart or your mind."

Xander started as he realised Bra'Tac was running alongside him, his gait easy and smooth. "Um, thanks."

"Old man," they came to a stop outside an entrance. The younger Jaffa and the rest of their companions were exchanging fire with the aliens inside. "I need a-."

"Of course, boy," Bra'Tac threw Teal'c a pair of silver globes. "Have two. Everyone look away." Even looking away Xander sensed a flashing light and heard the inside Jaffas' strangled cries. "Enter," Bra'Tac said, "but be careful."

"Daniel, help me get the cell pods open," Sam instructed. "Teal'c and Bra'Tac make sure none of the Jaffa in here are still a threat. Xander," Sam threw him her staff, "take the others and watch the door."

Xander tore his gaze away from the brightly-lit, oval-shaped room dominated by rows and rows of condensation filled holding pods. "Will do." He turned to the others. "Faith with me on the left. Connor, you and Rona on the right."

"You know," Faith hurried out of the room, into the corridor and to the corner they'd just come from, "all these alarms going off, reinforcements are bound to come a runnin'."

"I know," Xander peeked around the corner only to yank his head back at the sight of countless Jaffa running towards them. "Colonel Carter!" he shouted into his earpiece. "We've got company and they're not bearing gifts!"

"We're working as fast as we can," the blonde air force officer replied.

"Yeah?" Xander shouted as a fire fight broke out. "Work faster!"


	13. Chapter 13

**FIC: Alien End-Game (13/?) **

****

Opaca marched back and forth, some instinct making his skin prickle uneasily. He was bathed in the shadows of once-towering buildings, now brought low by their gods' wrath. This was once a business centre for infidels, where they traded goods and services.

Now though, he looked around, ash still rising from the collapsed buildings, charred rubble lying everywhere, they lay as silent testimony to their gods' wrath. Finally the scourge of the Tau'ri had been laid low-.

He turned at the sound of low growling, eyes narrowing. Over the past few days, packs of scavenger dogs had become a problem. Freed from their dead owners, some had begun to attack passer-bys. It was part of their duty to hunt them down, and it was more than a little sport too.

But the snarling was louder than he was used to.

Opaca glanced over his shoulder to his fellow Jaffa. "You three, with me! You three, stay behind!" 

They travelled through the rubble, the arid stench clogging in their throats. And then stopped when they were confronted by a quartet of black-furred monsters, the size of donkeys or ponies, but far more sleekly and powerfully muscled than either beast. Blazing red eyes glared fiercely at them, salvia dripping from their teeth as they growled their hate.

Gathering himself, he let out a yell. "Level your staff weapons! Fire!"

Energy coursed out of their weapons, many of their shots hitting the charging beasts. Smoke wafted up from the beasts' hides, but they still galloped on, undeterred by their attack, and then the beasts were leaping at them, fangs bared.

* * *

Lancelot waited until the four Jaffa had strode off, rising out of the pile of rubble he'd hidden behind. He looked towards his three fellow Round Table knights, Sir Bedivere, Sir Tor, Sir Caradoc. "It is time to send these devils to god's judgement."

The four of them crept towards the remaining Jaffas, keeping to the shadows, careful to give them no warning of their approach. Eventually they turned the corner, the trio of aliens spinning to face them.

Lancelot sprang forward as the three Jaffa spun to face them, buckler crashing into the nearest alien's face. Lancelot bared his teeth as the man stumbled backwards, to show weakness against him was to welcome death. His sword flashed out, taking the man's head from his shoulders, blood foutaining out as his corpse slumped against the wall and slid down to the ground. Lancelot looked around, relaxing as he saw his fellow knights had dealt with the other transgressors.

Lancelot stared balefully at the four Barghest, unfazed by their snarling and hate-filled glares. "Come," he crouched and wiped his sword off on one of the corpses' capes. "There are more Jaffa to send to judgement."

* * *

"For England and Arthur!" Roger gasped at the power in Galahad's shout even as the knight lunged forward, attacking the guards at the front of what had once been Wembley, but now served as a prison for any and all military personnel rounded up by the aliens.

Tristam, Lucan, and Kay were with their brother knight, the chain-mailed warriors thudding into the Jaffa as they attempted to bring their weapons to bear. Galahad ducked under a swung staff, sword flashing up to rip through the alien's warrior's throat. Even as blood spurted out, Galahad was ripping his sword out, flesh giving way before cold steel, the warrior moving on like quicksilver. A foot swung up, catching a Jaffa in the gut, doubling him up, his blade slicing down and through the back of the alien's neck. Before the head or body hit the ground, Galahad was moving onto the next. The Jaffa gasped when the knight's blade sliced through the end of his staff. Before the alien could react the pommel of Galahad's sword was shattering his nose, the man's head banging off the wall behind and then Galahad was slamming his shoulder in the man's chest, his blade thrusting up and through the man's stomach.

Roger shuddered, he'd seen Slayers up close, had served as one's Watcher for three years in the sixties, and had seen more than one vampire, but to see the legends of one's childhood in visceral, brutal action was something else entirely.

"Come, Sir. Roger," Roger blinked, it appeared he'd been knighted, he'd missed the ceremony though. Galahad smiled. "Let us free our country-men, and build an army with which to smite these godless creatures!"

"Yes," Roger stared uncertainly at the chain-mailed warrior, "couldn't agree more." He only wondered what the lads from Hereford would make of all this.

Bloody hell, if they disagreed, Roger shuddered, he might ask a Goa'uld for a passage out of here.

* * *

"This is the palace of the queen?" growled Arthur.

"It is," Bond paused, the lump in his throat threatening to choke him. "Well it was."

The Victoria Memorial before it was completely obliterated while the left side of the building was caved in, and the right charred by the heat from an explosion. London's most famous landmark was no more.

Yet even worse than the destruction was the Jaffa patrolling the rubble around it, watchful eyes ready to cow or kill any resistance.

"Then royal blood calls for blood." For once in his life Bond felt cold terror as the Once and Future King drew his blade. "We shall make a river to drown them in."

"Um," Bond felt moved to comment. "Not to be a stick in the mud about this, but there's only the three of us," he glanced at Frank Martin. "There must be close to fifty of them."

The legendary king chuckled lowly, his eyes fixed on the Jaffa. "Did I ever say we were but three?" Bond groaned as the king rose fearlessly, every Jaffa spinning towards them. "Wild Hunt, I summons you!"

Bond shivered as an ice-cold wind swept over them, blowing ash and dust into his face so that for a second he couldn't see or hear anything. When his senses returned, his heart skipped a beat as he heard the crashing of a thousand hooves thudding into the ground, the earth trembling under the impact. "Good lord," he whispered. Giles had described them, but to actually see them for yourself was something terrifyingly different.

The horde of horse riders came from a dozen time periods in history, were of all sizes and ages, but all carried an unearthly grimness about them, a sort of glamour that made everything seem grey just by their presence. Their giant leader made Bond want to gibber and scream, his awesomely built body covered by a skin of chain-mail, his stag's head's mouth filled with wolf's teeth and his eyes burning with hell's fire.

"Bloody hell," Martin muttered. Bond glanced at the hardened veteran to find he was shivering slightly.

Only the king appeared unmoved. "No, I would not fight such numbers alone, not when I have dread allies to aid me."

* * *

"This is a place of history?"

Robson nodded at Gawain's whispered question. "Yes, the Imperial War Museum," he replied as he peered around the bushes to the side of the building. Intelligence told them that a number of minor Goa'uld had made their base there.

"A place of the history of war," rumbled Sir. Lamorak. "Most fitting that we slaughter our enemies here."

"Couldn't agree more," mumbled Robson. Bloody hell, but even the minor knights were petrifying.

"The guards approach," Gawain warned before silencing and sinking further into the bushes. The next seconds stretched to a seeming eternity as the Jaffa approached. The moment they were in range, Gawain leapt to his feet. "For god and Arthur!"

The lead Jaffa's eyes widened, his staff came up only for the weapon to be knocked away by Gawain's shield. Before the Jaffa could right himself, the knight's broadsword slashed diagonally up, taking the man's face off, spilling blood everywhere.

Another Jaffa stepped around the melee, hard eyes narrowing as he swung his staff around and aimed. And then a Slayer crashed a knee into his back, hands linking under his chin, and twisting, neck shattering with a blood-chilling crack.

Even as the Slayers charged into the battle, the two knights were tearing through the Jaffa, spilling blood with every swing. Soon the museum would be theirs, but a far greater battle was still to be won.

* * *

"This is a place of history is it not?"

The vast square was surrounded by a trio of now devastaingly silent paths on three sides, and the wide steps leading to the National Gallery on the other. Nelson's Column stood proudly in the centre, surrounded by the cracked remains of four huge bronze lions. The plinths at the corners of the square, now nothing but rubble.

Finally Giles nodded and looked up at his companion, Bran The Blessed. "It is, it was."

"Oh," Bran's smile was bone-chilling. "I think today is a day of history too. The day when dread legends returned and liberated fair England."

"One rather hopes so-."

"Are we going to get a move on or what?"

Giles sighed. It seemed that Kennedy's awe at meeting Arthur didn't stretch to Bran the Blessed.

Probably because her being an American precluded her knowing anything about him.

"Yes," growled Bran, huge sword rising, "after so many centuries I hunger for blood."

"Oh good lord," murmured Giles. Just what had Arthur launched on the devstated world?

* * *

Shannon watched silently as they approached their target, a great horror robbing the moment of any possible lustre. Even the presence of the legends she strode beside couldn't reassure her as she looked around the destroyed city, few of London's famed landmarks remained standing, an ash grey cloud hanging over the city, rubble crunching underfoot. Occasionally there'd be a shape in the shadows, but then its owner would scurry away. Smoke and fear combined to clog her throat as she thought of her hometown, would that be destroyed like London?

Suddenly Sir. Percivale and Finn MacCool came to a halt, dropping into crouches she and the two knights behind her duplicated, hiding behind a burnt-out saloon. The moment the first of three Jaffa passed in front of them, MacCool was up, teeth bared as he bellowed a hoarsely-delivered Gallic war-cry.

His sword was ripping through the nearest Jaffa's throat as the other two began to turn. The powerfully-built Irishman charged around the back of the falling corpse to thrust his blade up and through the second Jaffa's stomach, blood gushing out. At the same Percivale attacked the third, twisting away from a staff blast that Shannon also had to jump out of the way of, the blast scorching the car door she'd been crouched beside, before elbowing the alien in the face.

The alien stumbled backwards, pain in his eyes, and blood gushing down his face. Before he could right himself, Percivale's back-handed swing was separating head from shoulders.

"Let us find more of these insects to stamp," muttered Finn, eyes spitting fire.

* * *

Lara gasped as she raced through Westminster's creepily deserted streets, the pursuing quintet's feet padding on the cracked pavement, apparently effortlessly closing the distance between them and her. And then Corin slid out of his hiding place behind a paint-scorched postbox, his blade singing as it slashed through the lead alien's throat, blood geysering out.

Even as the corpse fell, Corin was moving on, contemptously batting aside the plunging carcass to thrust his shield into another Jaffa's face, the collision's impact knocking the alien onto the hood of a parked car, staff falling from his hands. The Cornish warrior began to twist at the waist towards the downed warrior only to twist back to meet another Jaffa, parrying his staff swing on his buckler before delivering a kick to the stomach that knocked the Jaffa into some steel railings. Mouth twisted in a grimace, the Jaffa swung his staff at Corin as the warrior raced in, ducking under the blow before thrusting his sword through the alien's face.

Sir. Bors added to the confusion by launching his attack from the behind, sword thrusting into the small of the back of the last Jaffa, cutting his legs from him. The knight yanked his sword out in time to decapitate another alien before it had chance to turn.

"Watch out!" Lara fired two shots as the Jaffa Corin had knocked down rose and swung his staff up at Bors, her shots blowing the back of the alien's head off.

"I am indebted Lady Croft," Bors bowed slightly at the waist. "But perhaps we should move on?"

"Yes," Lara seathed her automatic, "we should."

After all, they had a city to liberate and a war to win.


End file.
